


(the first time) he kissed a boy

by buzzcut__season



Category: SK8 the Infinity (Anime)
Genre: Coming Out, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Gay Panic, Insecure Kyan Reki, Light Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Panic Attacks, Practice Kissing, oh boy a lot of pining, this is just gratuitous kissing and langa being a disaster gay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-19 06:09:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 29,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29870343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buzzcut__season/pseuds/buzzcut__season
Summary: Reki is insecure about his lack of kissing experience. Langa just wants to help him feel like he's good enough, even if teaching Reki to kiss means breaking his own heart.(yet another practice kissing au)
Relationships: Hasegawa Langa/Kyan Reki
Comments: 207
Kudos: 711
Collections: warm me up like soup





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hey babes I watched all of sk8 in one sitting this week and i'm here to offer the fandom another practice kissing fic! this is extremely self-indulgent and also an excuse for me to write several chapters of just the boys kissing, so i hope you enjoy :)

“I feel like I should teach you something, too,” Langa explained. 

Reki frowned, his hair ruffling in the wind. As usual, he had wolfed down his lunch in five seconds flat and was now sitting with his legs crossed, pouting every few minutes until Langa fed him bites of his own bento. “What do you mean?” 

“Because you taught me how to skate,” Langa said. “I should teach you something, too.” The problem was coming up with something he could do that Reki couldn’t. Langa glanced at him. Reki was impressive in so many ways; he was strong and fast and he could mend a skateboard without a owners’ manual and he could cook ten-minute rice in five minutes, and his smile could always make Langa’s heart feel a little lighter, no matter how sad and tired he felt, and okay, okay. 

Langa shook himself a little, to clear his head. He needed to stop thinking about those things all the time. It was becoming a problem. 

“Well,” said Reki, pursing his mouth, and Langa glanced at him and then quickly looked away so he wouldn’t hyperfixate on Reki’s mouth. He was always doing that, lately, especially in class, and then he couldn’t focus on anything else. Then Reki brightened. “I know! You can teach me to speak Canadian!” 

Langa snorted before he could stop himself, covering his mouth. Reki frowned at him. 

“What?” 

“Canadian isn’t a language,” Langa choked out, and Reki sat back, still frowning. 

“What do you mean? Do you guys just mime everything to each other over there?” His headband was slipping over his face, hair adorably messy, and Langa could barely hold himself back from reaching forward and fixing it. He couldn’t do that; he had made a rule for himself, no touching Reki more than necessary, in case Reki started thinking Langa was weird and stopped hanging out with him. 

Before Langa could try to explain how English worked, Reki waved his hand. 

“Ah, it’s just as well,” he said. “I’m no good at learning languages anyway. Let me think.” He stretched his hands in the air, toward the fence behind them, tangling his fingers in the wires and looking toward the sky. Langa allowed himself to look at Reki, just for a minute—well, he promised himself it would only be a minute. Lately even looking at Reki made his cheeks feel warm and his chest feel strangled. It was just that Reki was so expressive, he was always making faces, and seeing his eyebrows furrow or his tongue poke into his cheek did funny things with Langa’s stomach. 

The staring was getting out of hand. So Langa hastily made himself look away again, scolding himself. 

“I know!” said Reki again, dropping his hands and turning to Langa with an excited grin. “You can teach me how to be good with girls!” 

Something cold sank to the bottom of Langa’s stomach.  _ Oh.  _

He swallowed. Then he swallowed again, because suddenly his throat felt very dry, the strangled feeling creeping up his chest. He hadn’t known...well, he guessed he should have known, shouldn’t he? Of course Reki liked girls. Of course he did. Reki was grinning, practically vibrating, and of course he would be the type to fix up a fancy sports car just to take pretty girls driving, of course he would be the type to dance with pretty girls in nightclubs, of course he would be the type to declare undying love for a pretty girl on the day he met her. 

Langa should just feel grateful that Reki hadn’t met that pretty girl yet.

He shouldn’t feel like a part of himself was dying inside. 

Langa swallowed a third time. “Oh,” he said, eloquently. “I mean, I’m not very...I don’t know much about...I mean, you know I’ve never had a girlfriend before, don’t you?” 

Reki stared at him, amazed. “Really?” he said, putting his feet on the skateboard in front of them, moving it back and forth. Langa swallowed again, trying not to look at Reki’s bare lower legs. The hair there was thick and it looked soft and Langa knew how strong Reki was and he forced himself to swallow  _ again.  _ The staring again. He had no right to stare. 

“I—of course.” Langa felt all tongue-tied. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair for Reki to sit so close, so warm and solid and look so  _ good  _ and then get so excited when asking Langa about girls. It wasn’t fair, but Langa shouldn’t like him anyway, he shouldn’t feel this way, so he took a deep breath and tried to explain, “I’m sort of— I’m kind of—you know, awkward.” His cheeks itched. 

Reki shook his head. “Ah, don’t say that! You’re super smooth. The girls in our class are always looking at you.” 

“No,” Langa tried to say, but Reki talked over him, the way he did sometimes when his mouth moved faster than his brain and he forgot to pay attention to people around him. 

“You totally are, dude. You’re super cool and you smell good, like a clothes store, and you make the uniform look better than anybody else. See, you’re cool! Except when you’re wiping out in the skate park, but there are no girls around then to see you, just me.” 

“Just you,” Langa echoed distantly. 

“Yeah, dude,” said Reki. He patted Langa’s arm, and his hand was so warm that Langa sagged, a little, against the fence. When Reki was done with his patting, he left his hand there, soft and solid, creasing the sleeve of Langa’s uniform. Langa looked at his lap so he wouldn’t stare at Reki’s hand. He liked the way that Reki’s knuckles were knobbly and red and the way he had a Pokemon band-aid wrapped around his thumb because it was all he’d had at home when Langa accidentally rolled his wheel over Reki’s fingers. It was such a nice hand, and Langa felt like crying all over again. He wanted to hold Reki’s hand. He wanted to feel that warm weight against his palm, but he couldn’t, and he needed to get a handle on himself before he had a breakdown right here on the school roof, over something silly. 

“What do you want me to do?” he managed. If Reki wanted Langa to find him a girlfriend—well. Langa wanted to say he wouldn’t do it, but he would. He owed Reki, after all, but it wasn’t just that, it was also, just, god, he wanted Reki to be happy. If having a girlfriend would make Reki’s smiles bigger and his laughter louder, then how could Langa deny the world something so wonderful?

“Lemme think—lemme think,” Reki said, leaning against the fence, letting his hand slide idly down Langa’s arm, and Langa’s body burned with every inch. “Well, have you ever been on a date?”

Langa hesitated. “Once, I...I think?” 

“Okay,” said Reki. “Did you kiss her?” 

Langa flushed. There had been no  _ her,  _ but his tongue was still tied up, and he wasn’t sure how to explain something like that to Reki. Not because Reki would have a problem with it, of course not, he would probably sit up and wave his hands around erratically and apologize profusely for assuming. Reki would make a big deal out of it. But maybe he would take his hand off Langa’s arm, and Langa ached when he thought about Reki taking those touches away. They touched so often, so casually. Langa would cradle those touches against his chest until he died. 

“Sort of,” he admitted, and Reki bounced his feet on the skateboard. 

“So you know how to kiss!” He looked at Langa with a big grin on his face, his pretty eyes all squinted up at the corners, smile lines deep like crow’s feet, and Langa’s stomach went cold and bottomless with the realization of what he was about to say, just as Reki said, “That’s something you can teach me!” 

“How—” Langa sputtered, his mind fragmenting into images of Reki’s mouth, his hair, his hands (his hands on Langa’s body) and god, no, he couldn’t think about kissing Reki, if he thought about that his whole body was going to break out in a cold sweat and then he would have to go to class all sweaty with his mind full of  _ kissing Reki, _

but before he could figure out how to emphatically refuse, the warning bell rang, and Reki scrambled to his feet, tilting back and forth on the skateboard. “I owe you one, Langa!” he said. “Well, I guess you owe me first, right?” 

His grin was so bright, the sun behind his hair lighting up his face and Langa’s mind fragmented further, hopelessly, into a million pieces of  _ Reki Reki Reki.  _ Oh no, he thought desperately, oh no. 

* * *

It was impossible to pay attention in class. Of course Langa sat right next to Reki, which was normally not a problem, no, they were  _ friends,  _ they were just friends and Langa could handle a little thing like sitting next to Reki and watching him make faces at the board. Except Reki kept doing the thing where he poked his tongue into his cheek, to concentrate, and Langa’s brain got derailed thinking about Reki’s tongue, god, Reki’s tongue touching his own, and no, that should be gross. It should definitely be gross. Why was he sweating? 

“Oi,” Reki whispered across the aisle. “Langa. You’re breathing funny, you good?” 

His tongue was pressed to the top of his teeth when Langa glanced at him, and Langa felt his breath stick traitorously in his throat, and he coughed in his arm. And then he choked for real, and he couldn’t stop coughing, and Reki bounced up out of seat to pat him on the back. 

“Please sit down, Reki,” said their teacher from the board, sounding weary. 

“Sorry, sir!” 

Langa rubbed his mouth, still hunched over his desk, feeling the warm weight of Reki’s hand on his back. God. Jesus. Fuck. He was in trouble. 

* * *

“You wanna come over before S?” asked Reki, balanced on his board outside the school gates, as Langa tied his sneakers. He dropped his laces clumsily, on purpose, just to buy himself time, because he was sure the blush was rising in his face. 

All he could see were Reki’s feet, his constantly shifting feet, moving around the board, tilting it one way and another. Reki was always in motion. It was one of the reasons Langa couldn’t stop  _ staring  _ at him all the time. 

“Um...to study?” Langa fumbled with the words. They rarely studied together, they both had miserable grades and Reki always wanted to ditch the books to run outside and skate, and Langa could never deny him anything, god, he was really helpless, wasn’t he? But when he thought about what  _ else  _ they might do at Reki’s house...well, his chest was already getting tight and strangled again and he didn’t need to start coughing his lungs up again. 

“Oh,” said Reki. He cleared his throat. “Well, no. I was thinking...we could, you know, do what we were talking about at lunch.” 

Langa dropped his laces again, staring down into the dirt. God, how could Reki just  _ say  _ things like that? It was like he had no brain-to-mouth filter, and Langa swallowed hard, trying not to think of all the things Reki might say if they actually ended up kissing.  _ That feels good,  _ he would say, shifting in Langa’s lap, tugging absentmindedly on the ends of his hair,  _ I think we should do it some more. You wanna do more, Langa? _

Langa stood up abruptly. His chest was a tight, hot ball against his ribcage, and he said, “Sure.” 

Reki chattered for most of the ride home, coasting along next to Langa. He could talk on and on if Langa let him, and Langa usually did, because he didn’t mind listening, in fact he usually liked it. Reki knew so much, mostly about skating but also about the places they passed, small things like dented cafe chairs and bus stop graffiti, and Langa never minded the ways he interrupted his own stories when he spotted something new. 

Today, though, he couldn’t focus. Would Reki really want them to kiss each other? Or would he make Langa practice on one of his pillows? And, god, Reki’s pillows always smelled like him and Langa was going to lose his mind. 

Before he could catch himself, his board ran off the curb and he stumbled, toppling off backward as the board went flying out from under his feet. 

Reki screeched to a stop. “Hey!” he said. “Don’t die on me.” He jumped off his own board and grabbed Langa’s before it rolled down into the street below. Langa straightened up, rubbing at his elbows sheepishly, but Reki just grinned at him. “Did you get a boo-boo? Need me to kiss it better?” 

Langa’s face was burning. “No.” 

“Aw, I’m just kidding. You’re the kissing expert here, not me.”

“Stop,” said Langa, because his tongue was all tied up and he was pretty sure he was going to die, and Reki laughed and punched his shoulder good-naturedly, like a bro, because they were just bros, and he said, 

“We’re almost home anyway. Here. Carry this. I don’t want you going flying into the street again.” 

Langa made a face at him, but he tucked his board under his arm, and he waited until Reki’s back was turned to flip him off, hands still shaking. 

* * *

Reki kicked the bedroom door closed behind them, and then cursed to himself when it bounced back open, and Langa flopped onto his back on Reki’s bed, staring up at the ceiling. 

He listened to Reki moving around the room, throwing their backpacks onto his desk chair, opening the window to the warm summer air, so Langa could hear the sounds from the street outside, bicycle bells jingling and mothers calling to their children. Through Reki’s walls he could also hear his sisters playing, one of them knocking repeatedly against the wall to Reki’s bedroom, and Langa let his eyes sink closed. Reki’s house was always loud, but that was okay. Langa kind of liked the distraction. 

“Hey, so,” said Reki, and the mattress dipped when he sat down next to Langa, his body warm where his thigh fit against Langa’s side. He’d always been so comfortable touching Langa, cuddling up against him when they watched skating videos, and he had even once laid in Langa’s lap. That memory was one of Langa’s most precious memories, and he often lay awake in bed, daydreaming about that afternoon. For a wonderful hour and a half, Langa had been allowed to run his hands through Reki’s soft hair while Reki talked about Shadow and his girlfriend-not-girlfriend. Langa would give almost anymore for another chance to play with Reki’s hair like that. 

The mattress shifted again, and Langa opened his eyes and squinted up at Reki’s, whose hair was a messy halo of red around his face. In the sunlight from the window, his cheeks were pink and the smile lines around his mouth were dimpled and golden, and suddenly, achingly, Langa wanted to kiss him more than anything. 

“You really want to practice,” Langa said, sort of a question, sort of not, trying to keep his voice low so no one would hear, watching Reki’s face as he scrunched his nose up. God. He was adorable. Langa could just...with his hands cupping Reki’s warm sunburnt face...his fingers slipping into the soft cloud of his hair…

“Yeah,” said Reki, but his voice wavered just a little, and he sat back slightly, out of Langa’s direct line of sight. “I mean, not if you’re uncomfortable, dude. I didn’t think about that. Are you uncomfortable? I should’ve asked that to begin with, I didn’t think, huh, I really should’ve…” 

“I’m not uncomfortable,” said Langa, and the words died in Reki’s throat, and he bobbed his head instead, a single nod. Langa swallowed as he pulled himself up into a sitting position, across from Reki, their knees knocking against each other, the sun lighting up the fair hair on Reki’s calves. Langa swallowed again. 

“You sure, dude?” Reki asked. 

“I’m sure,” said Langa. And how could he say no when Reki was giving him a chance to touch him? He had wanted to kiss Reki since the first day he managed an ollie and Reki had leapt to his feet, his enthusiasm bubbling over, his palm warm and rough with callouses when he slapped it against Langa’s. He had stood so close that day, his face creased up in the biggest smile, and Langa had smiled back, thinking,  _ he’s so nice,  _ and then,  _ he looks so pretty,  _ and then,  _ I’d like to kiss that smile,  _ and then,  _ oh no, oh no, oh no.  _

Oh no indeed. 

“Okay,” said Reki, fiddling with his sleeves, tugging them down and then up and then making a face. “Can I take off my sweatshirt? Sorry. It’s just. I’m just.” 

“It’s okay,” said Langa, and Reki wrestled with his bulky sweatshirt, and Langa tried to breathe, averting his eyes when Reki dragged the sweatshirt off and his t-shirt rode up over his stomach. He knew that sometimes things like that bothered Reki. They’d be cuddling and Reki would suddenly bounce up and switch positions and explain that his brain felt funny. 

But the stalling didn’t last long, and then Reki was settling in front of him again, closer than before. “Okay,” Reki said again. “So, um. How does this work? What should I...what should I do?” 

Langa took another breath. He tried to think, but his brain felt all clogged up with the way Reki’s hair fell messily over his face, mussed from taking off his hoodie. “Um,” Langa said. “Well, I guess, if you were with a girl you probably wouldn’t kiss until after you went on a first date? So, uh, pretend we were just on a date, I guess.” 

Reki nodded slowly, glancing up toward the ceiling, then toward the window, thinking. “Okay,” he said. “I’d take you to the skate park. And we’d practice for a while, and then get ramen.” 

Langa felt warm all over, even when a breeze blew through the open window, ruffling Reki’s wild hair. “Not me,” he made himself say. “That’s not what I...just pretend I’m a girl, alright?” 

Reki glanced back at him, and for a moment his eyebrows furrowed, and he looked like he was going to ask a question, but then the lines in his face smoothed away. “Okay,” he agreed. “You’re pretty, you know, Langa? I think that’s why all the girls like you so much.” 

The heat in Langa’s face rose, and for a moment he couldn’t work any words around his tongue. God. His cheeks were burning. The way Reki said his voice—the way he called Langa  _ pretty,  _ so casually, so honestly. How could he just  _ say  _ things like that casually? Langa had spent one too many nights mourning Reki’s own prettiness with his pillow clutched to his chest, and here was Reki casually complimenting him, as if Langa being pretty were simply a fact, an easy truth. 

“You’re breathing funny again,” Reki observed, reaching forward and tucking some of Langa’s hair behind his ear, and the band-aid around his thumb brushed against Langa’s cheek and Langa swallowed through the lump in his throat. 

“Sorry,” he said, and Reki laughed a little, settling his hands back into his lap, and Langa’s hair fell back into his face again. 

“Don’t be sorry,” said Reki. “I’m the idiot with no experience. Well, that’s why I’m learning! So, okay, tell me what to do.” 

He sat there, hands in his lap, waiting eagerly for Langa’s instruction, completely oblivious to the way Langa’s throat went dry before he could swallow again. Jesus. Reki had no idea what he sounded like. Langa could tell him to do anything, except of course he  _ wouldn’t,  _ he wouldn’t, Reki was his friend and Langa was going to be a good friend and he was not going to take advantage of Reki’s innocence by asking him to lay down and let Langa run through his fingers through his hair, over and over and over until he finally satisfied the deep ache in his chest. 

No. Langa swallowed. “Okay, um. I guess you should. You should ask first.” 

“If I can kiss you?” 

“Her,” Langa corrected, his throat dry again. “If you can kiss her.” 

Reki nodded slowly, watching Langa’s face, and Langa saw the way Reki’s eyes dropped to his mouth, and a shiver ran through Langa’s body, so he had to clench his hands in his lap. Reki’s voice was soft when he asked, “Can I kiss you, Langa?” 

Langa shivered again, because Reki had said his name a hundred times but never like  _ that,  _ and he nodded, because he wasn’t sure he had any words for the way Reki’s eyelids went heavy-lidded in front of him. 

Reki leaned forward, and Langa remembered to lift his hand and put it against Reki’s jaw, and god, the weight of Reki’s face settling into his palm—he was so warm. Reki paused and opened his eyes again and glanced down at his own hands. Then Reki put his palm against Langa’s face, too, fumbling a bit with the grip, the band-aid tickling the place where Langa’s jaw met his neck. Reki could probably feel the way Langa swallowed once, twice, three times, 

and then Reki leaned in again and Langa’s brain shut down. 

He vaguely registered the hesitant brush of skin against skin, the three seconds when Reki lingered against him before pulling back, flustered. “Did I do something wrong?” he was asking, before Langa could open his mouth. “You didn’t move.” 

Langa blinked, trying to focus on Reki’s face, his mind still lagging on the feeling of his lips. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” Langa said slowly, watching the way Reki’s eyebrows creased together, his mouth pulling to one side like he was self-conscious, and Langa’s stomach sank as he suddenly understood.

Reki had asked to practice because he didn’t think he was good enough. 

Langa squeezed his eyes shut so he didn’t have to see that look on Reki’s face. Of course Reki probably compared himself to Langa, who got love confessions in his locker every other week, he probably stared at himself in the mirror and wondered if he was doing something wrong. Langa never wanted Reki to feel that way. He wanted Reki to know how wonderful Langa thought he was, but Reki didn’t care about that, he only wanted Langa to help him practice, so he could go on to be wonderful to other people. 

“Do it again,” Langa whispered, a bit hoarse. “It was—it was good.”

Reki made an aborted noise in the back of his throat, and Langa wished his stomach wouldn’t clench at every sound Reki made, and then Reki put his hands carefully on Langa’s face and leaned in again. 

This time the kiss was softer, still hesitant, the lightest touch as if Reki was afraid of putting too much pressure on Langa’s mouth. Langa could feel the tickle of his exhale, and something hot itched in his palms, until he placed them, warm, on Reki’s shoulders. Their knees fumbled against each other as Langa moved closer, Reki’s head tilting, and then their mouths slotted together and Langa’s throat closed up _.  _

He could feel Reki’s rapid heartbeat through the skin near his neck, and after only ten quick beats Reki pulled back barely an inch to gasp a breath. “Sorry,” he mumbled, leaning in again, their mouths bumping, and Langa squeezed his eyes shut, allowing Reki to fumble with the new kiss while his own stomach clenched and unclenched and clenched in time to Reki’s pulse. 

It felt good. It felt so good that Langa wanted to die, because what if Reki pulled away again and rubbed the kiss off his mouth with his sleeve and said that was enough? Langa held tightly to his shoulders, tilting his head against to deepen the kiss because he might not have another chance. 

This time when Reki pulled away, Langa had to pause to catch his breath, too, and shame began to crawl up the neck of his neck like a flush. God. He had gone too far, hadn’t he? He had wanted too much. Maybe he had made Reki uncomfortable, except, please, please, he just wanted to kiss him again,  _ please.  _

Langa squinted his eyes half-open, to gauge Reki’s reaction. If he looked uncomfortable, Langa was going to grab his things and make a hasty escape. But Reki just looked flushed and unsure, touching his lips with his fingers and then quickly shoving his hand in his lap when he saw Langa looking. 

“Was it—” Reki’s voice broke off and he cleared his throat before trying again. “Was it alright?” 

“It was good,” said Langa, and then he flushed, because he sounded too genuine, he sounded too much like he wanted Reki to push him over onto the bed and lie on top of him and kiss him in the dying light until they could taste nothing but each other. “I mean—uh. I think you’re okay. I’m not a kissing expert or anything, but it was—it was enjoyable. I mean. Um.” 

Reki still looked unsure, scratching one wrist, looking out the window and then down at the bed and then back up at Langa. “Is that—” He hesitated. “Is that all there is? I felt like—” He frowned, his mouth working over the words. “I felt like I could be doing more.” 

He sounded determined, a bit worried. Langa’s stomach ached again. He thought about what it would be like to smooth his hands over the creases in Reki’s face, over his wild hair, and whisper that Reki was doing enough—that he  _ was  _ enough. He thought about how Reki would smile against his hand and surge forward to kiss Langa again, more enthusiastic this time, sending them toppling backward, Langa gripping the back of his t-shirt, the both of them laughing against each other’s mouths because Langa would want him no matter what. 

“Well, um.” Langa cleared his throat. His first kiss had been very brief, and it had ended badly, very badly, but Langa quickly put that memory aside. This moment was about Reki. “It depends, um, on what you want, and um, what the girl wants, I guess. You can do whatever you like, I don’t really…”

“What do  _ you  _ like?” Reki interrupted, and Langa swallowed, his throat dry. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Is there something you like when you’re kissing somebody?” 

“I told you,” said Langa, his voice weak, “I’m not some kind of expert, I don’t have—I don’t have very much experience.”

He could tell from the way Reki raised his eyebrows that he didn’t believe that, but Reki still said, “Okay,” and then, scratching his wrist again, “maybe we could try again? And whatever you do, I’ll try to copy it.” 

He brightened up again, like he thought this was a good idea, grinning a bit, and Langa’s stomach twisted, because this was beginning to feel like the way Reki had tried more and more dangerous tricks on his skateboard to try to copy the things Langa did without thinking. But he nodded anyway. There was no way Reki could hurt himself by kissing, at least not with Langa. Langa would make sure he was okay. 

“Okay,” Langa said, “but it’s probably going to be bad, just a fair warning.” 

Reki scoffed, still smiling, and Langa’s stomach eased a bit, at that smile. “Aw, it won’t be bad,” he said. “C’mere.” And he tucked his hand over Langa’s shoulder, the same way he did when they were hanging out together at lunch, and it was the most natural motion he had made since they started this whole mess, and Langa’s heart felt like it was breaking into a million pieces Reki pulled him in to kiss him again. 

Because  _ this— _ the way Reki’s mouth found his own more easily than before, the way he breathed in just before pressing close—this must be how Reki would kiss him if he was doing it just because he  _ wanted  _ to.

Langa swallowed back the lump in his throat as he cupped Reki’s face again, and this time Reki was the one to shift closer, and even that tiny bit of confidence made Langa’s whole body feel weak, his arms sagging as Reki held onto his elbows. Reki’s mouth was warm; the way his thumbs rubbed up and down Langa’s arms was warm, and Langa began to lose himself in the feeling of Reki kissing him, eyes closed and mind swimming, until a breeze blew through his hair and Langa remembered he was supposed to be trying something new. 

He pulled away, just barely, and Reki made a soft noise, chasing his mouth, and Langa squeezed his eyes shut again, his palms hot as their mouths pressed together again. God. Reki was so  _ eager.  _ Langa was going to die, he was going to die, and before he could overthink it, he touched the tip of his tongue to Reki’s bottom lip. 

Reki’s whole body paused. Langa hesitated—he had never done this before, he had only watched videos—but when he slid his tongue over the seam of Reki’s mouth, it felt so good, it felt so good that Langa didn’t want to stop, he wanted to come apart in Reki’s arms, Reki’s hands gripping him so tightly, and then Reki made another soft noise, and Langa’s chest melted. 

Reki’s head tilted, his lips parting slightly when Langa ran his tongue over his bottom lip again, and Reki made a sort of rasping sound and then the tip of his tongue touched Langa’s and Langa’s brain short-circuited,  _ so good so good  _ it felt  _ so good _ , and Reki did it again, and his tongue was hot and Langa was hot, his whole body alight, burning up, and he could hear himself panting into Reki’s mouth. 

“You good, dude?” Reki whispered, against his lips, rubbing his thumbs over Langa’s arms harder, soothing, almost a massage, and Langa wanted to cry, he wanted to grab the back of Reki’s head and kiss him again and again and again. This had been a mistake. How was he ever going to look at Reki’s mouth again without feeling the touch of his tongue, the burning in his chest? Reki handled him so gently. It made Langa want to collapse. 

“Yeah,” Langa whispered back, shaky, and Reki sat up, so Langa couldn’t feel the warmth of his breath anymore, and it took him a moment to collect himself, to swallow down all the words he wanted to say:  _ don’t go, kiss me again, I never want to stop.  _

“We did good,” Reki said, as if he was reassuring Langa, and Langa swallowed and nodded even though he didn’t know what the hell he was doing, kissing his best friend until his mind went fuzzy, and Reki grinned, and Langa remembered,  _ oh, that’s why.  _

“It was—” Langa tried to find a word that wouldn’t give up the way his heart throbbed at the light shining off Reki’s eyes. “You’re right,” he said, instead. “Do you feel, um. Like you learned something?” 

Reki nodded, but then he bit the inside of his cheek and glanced at the window, where the leaves from his tree were waving into the bedroom. “Well,” he said. “Well, maybe we could do it again tomorrow? I feel like I have a lot more to learn, you know, like how to use tongue, and what to do with my hands, and how to use teeth—wait, are you ever supposed to use teeth? Like I know you’re not  _ supposed  _ to, but what if you do, and it feels kinda good, then is it okay?” 

Langa took a deep, careful breath, trying to stop the flush rising to his face. Reki looked at him with the ghost of a grin still hovering around his mouth, waiting for Langa to answer, and Langa’s voice was only a little strangled when he said, “We can, um, we can try, I guess.” 

“You sure?” 

Langa nodded, and Reki paused, so Langa said aloud, “Yes, I’m sure,” and the grin settled back onto Reki’s face, warm and sure and happy, and Langa’s whole body ached. He wanted Reki to look that way always—confident. Maybe Langa could make him feel like that, if only for a little while.   
  



	2. Chapter 2

Langa fell asleep that night replaying the kiss in his mind, and he woke up the next morning replaying the kiss in his mind, brushing his teeth and thinking of how soft Reki’s mouth had been, the warm, clumsy way his lips moved, his face so close that Langa could see every faded scar from his skateboarding falls. He couldn’t think of anything else besides how much he wanted the kissing to happen again. 

Maybe he could steal Reki away from class somehow, taking Reki’s broad, callused hand and pretending he needed to use the bathroom. As Langa packed his lunch in the kitchen, he lost himself in a daydream where he was fumbling to get a stall door locked, he and Reki crowded into the tiny space together, Reki bracing his arms against the walls and laughing nervously.  _ “Won’t we get caught?”  _ Reki would ask as Langa turned around, and Langa would whisper back,  _ “No,”  _ because in the daydream Langa had all the confidence in the world and in his daydream Reki swallowed and let his eyes drift to Langa’s mouth, and in the daydream a blush began to rise on Reki’s face,  _ adorable,  _ and in the daydream… 

“Langa,” said his mother, and Langa cried, “Ah!” and nearly dropped his lunchbox.

Shamefaced, he straightened up and turned around. His mother tilted her head, holding her cardigan around her pajamas. 

“You’re going to be late for school,” she chided, but then she opened her arms and waved him in for a hug, and even though Langa always felt embarrassed hugging his mother, he had to admit that she gave good hugs. Today he closed his eyes when she patted his back. 

“Have a good day,” he said, awkwardly, when she let him go. 

“You too,” she said, smoothing his hair away from his face, and when Langa stepped outside to climb onto his moped, he felt a little bit better than he had last night, when he had gone to sleep aching to kiss Reki again. He and Reki were still friends, he reassured himself. That was enough. It was enough. It was  _ enough.  _

* * *

It wasn’t enough. 

Reki had his feet up on the edge of Langa’s seat, legs balanced across the aisle, and he was talking enthusiastically about his drawings, showing them to Langa one by one, and each time he said, “Oh oh oh!” Langa’s heart melted a little more. Jesus. His heart never beat this quickly unless he was racing down a hill at 25 mph, and today he was just sitting at his desk, watching Reki’s bandaged fingers point out smudged pencil drawings, and his heart beat so fast against his chest that it hurt. 

He wanted to ask to see the drawings up close. He wanted to trace the lines Reki had made with his finger, as if somehow he could puzzle out Reki’s heart that way, too. 

But too soon their teacher called the class to attention, and Reki gave Langa a grin, poking his tongue out a little, and even though Langa  _ knew  _ Reki was just trying to make a funny face, his heart did a painful squeeze as they all faced the front. This wasn’t enough. He loved Reki as a friend, he wanted to be his friend forever, but now he was thinking about his mouth again, and about getting to lie in his bed in his arms, listening to Reki talk endlessly about every drawing he had ever done. 

* * *

“Let’s go to the skate park,” said Reki the next day. “I wanna take some videos of you.” 

So Langa followed him to the skate park, where they hung out until the sunset, and then they walked to the convenience store for slushies. They sat on the curb while they drank the slushies, and Reki pressed his arm against Langa’s for a blessed half an hour, and Langa thought about kissing him. Reki had said they could practice again, but Langa couldn’t stop wondering, desperately,  _ when.  _

But then the sky got dark and they said goodnight, and Langa lay awake again, far too late, thinking about him. 

Maybe if he kissed better, he thought, then Reki would want to kiss more often. Maybe he would start thinking of Langa as a real expert. Maybe he would begin to have feelings for...no. No, Langa couldn’t start thinking like that, but he still wanted to improve. He made a resolution to himself the next day during class. He had been clumsy last time, he hadn’t known what to do with his tongue, but next time he would be more prepared. 

“You wanna come over before S tonight?” asked Reki after school, flipping his board over with his foot. The answer was yes, like it always was, because Langa would follow him anywhere, but he knew Reki liked to ask anyway. Something about hearing the verbal confirmation. 

“Okay,” said Langa. His heart started to flutter in his throat again, thinking about kissing practice. Would Reki sit him down in his bed again and put his palms against Langa’s face? Maybe he would let Langa sit in his lap. Langa swallowed. No. That was too much. The thought of himself perched on Reki’s strong thighs, Reki’s hands on his jeans, tugging him closer, Reki lifting his chin to grin up at Langa, his hair falling away from his forehead— 

“I wanna work on your board,” Reki was saying, and Langa stumbled a bit, pushing away from the curb with his sneaker. “I was looking up some things I could change last night, and then I stayed up way too late watching videos about it. But it’s okay. Because I was thinking that for the back wheels…” 

Langa listened to Reki chatter, but as they rode through the trees, his chest felt heavier, somehow. Last night he had been lying awake wondering when Reki would want to kiss him again, and that had been the furthest thing from Reki’s mind. Maybe Reki had forgotten about the practicing already. Langa’s chest throbbed a single, painful time against his ribs. He thought he might break apart if he had to keep waiting, wondering when he could kiss Reki, only to slowly lose hope that it would ever happen again. 

When they got to Reki’s garage, Reki kicked their backpacks into a corner and grabbed Langa’s board, turning it upside-down on the table. Langa sat across from him, watching him unscrew the back wheels as he babbled about who was going to be at S that night. 

“I think my mom heard me sneaking out the other night,” Reki said, his tongue poking out in concentration as he wrestled with the board. “Because this morning she asked if I ever went out at night to meet girls. I told her no. It’s the truth! There are no girls around who are interested in me.” 

Langa bit the inside of his mouth. It tasted like metal. “If you want...” he said. “I mean, if she catches you sneaking out, you can just say you were with me. I think my mom would cover for us.” 

Reki glanced up. “Really?” When he pushed his hair out of his face, his thumb left a long mark of dirt, and Langa’s hands itched to rub it away. 

“Yeah,” he said. “I think...well, she’d definitely be disappointed in me if she found out I was sneaking out. But I wouldn’t get in  _ trouble.  _ I think my mom’s too afraid to get me in trouble ever since, you know.” 

Reki went quiet, bobbing his head, his forehead furrowing. Reki never seemed to know how to talk about Langa’s father’s death. Langa wasn’t sure anyone in Reki’s life had ever died before, so maybe it wasn’t something he could really grasp, and Langa didn’t really want to talk about it, anyway, so he said, 

“What are you doing? Tell me so I understand,” and Reki launched into a description of every book or manual he’d read about this particular type of wheel, all jumbled up so Langa forgot all the titles right away. 

He liked listening to Reki talk, and when Reki ran out of words to say they just sat in comfortable silence while Reki worked on the board. Langa’s phone buzzed with a text from his mother.  _ Thought of you!  _ she had written, alongside an article titled, “A High Schooler’s Guide to Confessions.”

Langa winced to himself. He knew she meant well, since he had sort-of-accidentally told her about his crush on Reki, but how could he confess to his straight best friend? He would only make things awkward.

He glanced up at Reki, who was humming to himself, and then thumbed the edge of the phone, thinking. He didn’t need advice for confessing, but maybe he could find advice on...other things. Quietly he opened up a new tab and typed,  _ how to kiss well.  _ So many search results popped up that at first Langa felt dizzy, scrolling through helplessly, glancing at diagrams too complicated to understand. Then he found the videos. Ah! This would be much easier. No reading involved. Reading usually made Langa’s head hurt. 

He clicked on the first video, which seemed educational. His volume was turned off, and the video was in English, so Reki would never know. Carefully Langa held the video up to his face, watching the way the people tilted their faces to slot their mouths together. The video had a white background, and it all looked very sanitary, nothing like the warm, dreamy light in Reki’s soft bedroom, with the air ruffling through their hair, all the feelings in the world held in Reki’s amber eyes, in the curve of his smile. Dissatisfied, Langa clicked the next video, which looked hotter, anyway, that was probably better— 

“What are you watching?” asked Reki, his voice closer than Langa expected, and in surprise Langa dropped the phone in his lap. 

Reki glanced down. He was standing right in front of Langa, holding the skateboard, and Langa panicked.  _ Please, God, _ he thought, but when he looked down at the video, it was much worse than he had imagined. In a dark bedroom, a woman was climbing onto a man, his hands sliding to her waist, and— 

“Okay!” said Reki loudly, spinning around, and Langa fumbled desperately for the phone, but he hit the volume button instead of the power, and no language barrier could mask the sound of moaning that echoed through the garage. 

When Langa finally managed to silence the phone, his whole body sweating, hands shaking, Reki had returned to the table, his back still to Langa. “I’m sorry,” Langa managed, and his voice cracked, as if this whole ordeal wasn’t humiliating enough already. 

Reki waved his hand in the air. “It’s cool,” he said, but his voice cracked too, and Langa winced. It wasn’t cool. This was the complete  _ opposite  _ of cool. 

“It wasn’t what it looked like,” he tried, but the sentence trailed off, because how could he explain?  _ I just wanted to be good for you? I wanted to kiss you so well you’d start to like me back?  _

Reki cleared his throat. “Like I said, man,” he said. “It’s cool.” He rubbed his elbow, turning around so Langa could see his face, and he winced again. Reki was red, and this was  _ not  _ one of the ways Langa had imagined making him blush. “I didn’t, uh.” Reki coughed a little, into his fist. “I didn’t peg you as the kinda guy to watch that stuff, I guess. Dumb, right? I guess everyone does it.” 

“No,” said Langa, his face burning, “I wasn’t...I wouldn’t do that in public, I was just…” 

“It’s okay, man,” said Reki. “We all have our needs.” 

“No, stop,” said Langa, “stop, stop, that’s not what I—” 

But then Reki laughed, an awkward laugh, but still a laugh, and Langa let his excuses break off, his face still burning as he tucked his phone into his pocket. Great. Just peachy. Now Reki imagined him as the kind of guy who tried to get off in public, and if he hadn’t thought Langa was a perv after the whole kissing episode, he definitely did now. 

“It’s fine,” said Reki for the millionth time, hopping up to sit on the edge of the table, his feet swinging. “We were bound to have a moment like this eventually, anyway, right? That’s what happens between best friends. You end up knowing uncomfortable stuff about each other.”

Langa swallowed, hard. “Right.” 

“So it’s fine,” Reki said, reassuring, leaning back on his wrists. “What’s your type, anyway? You never talk about girls, even though they give you the googly eyes all the time.” 

Langa swallowed again. He cast his mind around for some description that wasn’t too close to Reki—he could barely remember the last time he liked someone who wasn’t Reki. “Uh,” he said, and Reki laughed again. 

“You have this super blank look in your eyes,” he said, kicking at Langa’s knees. “C’mon, you must think about it sometimes? Or is it all skateboarding in there?” He tapped his temple, teasing, and Langa could feel his flush rising again. “Skateboarding and Reki?” 

Jesus Christ. Langa knew his whole face must be red, and Reki started laughing again, kicking at him in a friendly sort of way. He was just teasing, but Langa felt a bit like he was going to have a heart attack if this went on much longer.  _ Jesus.  _

“What’s  _ your  _ type?” Langa asked, quickly, when Reki’s snickering died away, and Reki rubbed at his elbow again. 

“Uh,” he said, and then laughed. “I guess I haven’t thought about it much either.” 

_ Good,  _ Langa almost said, and then felt the flush of shame on his neck. He had no right to be possessive over Reki. They were just friends, and Reki should be with whoever made him the happiest. “I thought you wanted a girlfriend,” he said. 

“Well…” Reki let the word drag on, gazing past Langa and out into the yard. “I don’t know. It’s more about finding someone I really connect with, you know? It doesn’t matter what they look like. I just want someone to hang out with all the time and talk about skateboarding with and, I don’t know, whatever else they’re passionate about. I don’t know. I just want someone who gets me, you know?” 

He looked at Langa, grinning, something soft shining in his eyes, and Langa bit his tongue, because that something soft was meant for the girl he was imagining, someone undoubtedly lovely who would always know the sweetest things to say, someone who would never pant clumsily against his mouth, someone who would never watch  _ how to kiss good  _ videos around him and make an idiot out of themselves. 

“Yeah,” Langa said, his throat dry, “I get you.” 

And he did, because it was the exact way he felt about Reki, and he wanted to cry, because he could be that person for Reki too, if only Reki would let him, if only Reki wanted him to. 

* * *

The next day he and Reki were headed up to the roof to eat their lunch together when a girl stopped in front of them, looking up at Langa. “Langa-kun,” she said, “can I talk to you for a minute?” 

Langa’s heart sank. He never knew how to talk to girls, he was horribly awkward, and he hated getting confessions in front of Reki. Already, out of the corner of his eye, he could see Reki’s shoulders sag. 

“Okay,” said Langa, because he didn’t know what else to say, and the girl took his arm and pulled him away from Reki, and Langa swallowed back a protest. Her hand on his elbow felt all wrong. 

She brought him outside, around a corner near a stairwell, not the spot behind the school where girls usually did confessions. “It’s not about me,” she explained. “It’s about some of my girl friends. They, well, you know. They wanted to invite you to our mixer tomorrow, but none of them were brave enough to do it.” 

“Oh,” said Langa, and his shoulders relaxed a bit, because this wasn’t a confession after all, but then he thought about going to a mixer with  _ several  _ girls who might want to confess to him, and his shoulders tightened again. “Um, I. That’s not really my...my thing.”

God, he sounded so lame. 

“Oh, there’s nothing to worry about,” said the girl, waving her hand. “It’ll be really chill. We’ll meet at the corner after school, alright?” 

Langa opened his mouth and then closed it again. Well, now he didn’t know how to refuse. “Um,” he said. “I don’t know.” 

“It’ll be okay,” said the girl. “Here. I’ll give you my number.” Before he could move away, she had stolen his cell phone out of his pocket and opened up his contacts, and Langa’s hands fell helplessly to his side. The only person who ever texted him was Reki, and sometimes his mom. He glanced up the stairwell. He wished Reki was here, Reki would know what to say, Reki wouldn’t hesitate to grab the phone back, he was always smacking the back of Langa’s head and telling Langa not to just go along with things, but the problem was that Langa could never find the words to stand up for himself. 

And then he was thinking of Reki, and a new thought sunk in: 

A mixer; single girls. 

The girl handed his phone back. Langa didn’t want to say anything, but he forced himself to. “Would it be alright if I...if I brought my friend? He doesn’t have a girlfriend or anything.” 

She frowned, deeply. Langa’s hands fumbled on the phone, trying to shove it back into his pants; for some reason he felt so stiff around her, his tongue all tied up. 

“Well,” she said after a lengthy pause. “Is your friend Reki?” 

“Yes,” said Langa, finally succeeding in fitting the phone into his pocket. He hoped this was the right answer, but he could see right away that it wasn’t. The girl shook her head, her nose piercing glinting off the sunlight. 

“We’ve all known Reki since we were kids,” she said. “He’s, well. I mean, you know how he is. You know what I mean.” 

Langa’s hands suddenly felt very sweaty and very hot. “No,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady. “I don’t know.” 

“He’s annoying,” said the girl, very plainly, gazing at him with no emotion behind the words, and Langa bit the inside of his mouth, hard. 

He could feel his hands clenching into fists, the sky and the grass blurring around them, her face blank. It wasn’t fair, he thought, it wasn’t true, Reki was wonderful, his enthusiasm was so contagious, Langa was awestruck by him more days than not. Sometimes when Reki was skating Langa just sat on the top of a half-pipe and gazed at him for hours. He wanted to say it wasn’t true, but he had to swallow first, and then the only words that came out were, “I don’t want to come to your mixer.” 

He turned around. He didn’t want to look her in the face anymore, this girl who said horrible things about Reki, and his hands were still hot, so he shoved them in his pockets. But the girl caught his elbow again anyway. “Langa-kun,” she said. “Okay. Okay. You can bring him. Maybe one of my friends...maybe. We’ll see, okay?” 

Langa didn’t say anything for a moment. He wanted to say no and escape up the stairs to the roof, where he and Reki would be alone, and Reki would fill their time with questions about Langa’s new jump and about Canada. He wanted to keep Reki to himself. 

But he made himself clear his throat. “I’ll ask him. If he wants to come, we will.” 

She released him. “Okay,” she said, sounding put out, and then Langa did escape, his feet pounding on the metal stairs, and he hoped and hoped and hoped that Reki would say no. 

* * *

“A mixer?” said Reki, as soon as Langa told him. “Wow, really? Wow.” He moved his board back and forth between his legs. They were hanging out at the skate park after school; Langa hadn’t been able to bring himself to tell Reki about the mixer during lunch, because he still felt hot and angry over that word,  _ annoying,  _ and he knew he would end up blurting out the wrong thing. 

Even now, it was hard to keep his face blank. “Yeah,” he said. “We can go if you want. Do you want?” 

“Man, of course I want!” said Reki, and his grin was so wide that Langa almost caught himself smiling, too, just from the brightness of Reki’s face. “I’ve never been invited to a mixer before. Wow! This is so cool. Damn!” 

Langa pressed his hands together between his legs. “Yeah,” he said. 

“I can’t believe they wanted  _ me, _ ” said Reki, gazing happily off at the horizon, where the orange sun melted into the clouds, and Langa’s stomach clenched. Then Reki laughed a little, ducking his head, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Well, they probably wanted you, right? And I’m just tagging along.” 

“That’s not true,” said Langa, even though it was, and his stomach clenched more tightly. He wanted to tell Reki the truth, but he knew how badly it would hurt his feelings, that horrible word,  _ annoying.  _ Reki should be with someone who understood how beautiful his face looked in the setting sun like this, someone who ached every night when it was time to go home because they didn’t want to be separated from him. 

“Will you stay over tonight?” Langa asked, even though he knew he shouldn’t. His voice just came out; he couldn’t stop it. “After S?” 

“Sure,” said Reki, and when he bumped against Langa’s shoulder, all friendly, Langa’s whole body flushed warm. 

* * *

Langa turned on the bedside lamp in his dark bedroom as Reki closed the door softly, very softly, so they wouldn’t wake up his mother. “We good?” Reki whispered, and Langa nodded, pulling off his shoes. 

Reki had dropped his overnight bag off before S (and Langa’s mom had been so delighted to see him, she always was, because of the way Reki gave her a big hug the first time they met, something Langa still felt hesitant about doing even though she was his own mother) and he scrambled over Langa’s bed to pull out his pajamas. Langa tried to distract himself with his phone, but instead of going into the bathroom to change, Reki began shedding his clothes right there in the bedroom, and even though it was dark, Langa could feel the warm  _ thump  _ of Reki’s sweatshirt on the bed next to him. 

He squeezed his eyes shut. He had seen Reki half-naked before, at the beach, or when he spent the night at Reki’s house, but every time it was hard not to look. He just wanted to see Reki’s stomach, the dip of his collarbones, the dark blush of his nipples.  _ God.  _ Langa squeezed his eyes shut tighter. He wouldn’t peek, he told himself. He  _ wouldn’t. _

He held his body very, very still until he could feel the mattress swaying as Reki crawled onto the bed, bumping his shoulder against Langa’s. “Hey,” he said. “Aren’t you going to change?” 

Langa opened his eyes. He wanted to lean backwards, against Reki’s chest, and he could feel Reki settling into a sitting position, his knees pressed against Langa’s back. It would be so easy to lean against him. Langa had wanted to sit in Reki’s lap for a long time, he dreamed about it sometimes, he just  _ knew  _ it would feel so warm and safe and…

“Langa?” Reki poked him. 

“Ah,” said Langa, jolting upward, and Reki laughed quietly into the silence. Langa could feel his face burning as he moved toward his dresser, searching for the sweatpants he liked to sleep in, and then he held them for a moment, wavering. He could go change in the bathroom. Reki wouldn’t care. But when he glanced over his shoulder, Reki was scrolling through his phone (one of the giant S groupchats he kept trying to add Langa to) so quickly Langa shed his jeans and slipped into the sweatpants. 

He changed his t-shirt, too, and when he turned around he caught Reki’s eyes on him, and even though Reki glanced away immediately, the flush was already rising up Langa’s neck. He cleared his throat, and Reki tossed his phone onto the mattress, holding out his arms. 

“C’mere,” he said. “Man, you went so fast tonight! I thought you were gonna wipe out in the abandoned factory but you didn’t, of course, ‘cause you’re awesome.” 

Langa stepped toward the bed hesitantly. He didn’t want to mistake what Reki meant with those outstretched arms — he didn’t want to hope for too much — but as soon as he was within reach, Reki wrapped his arms around Langa’s waist with a contented sigh. He pressed his face against Langa’s chest, nuzzling a little, and Langa thought he was going to die with how fast his heart was beating, Reki could probably feel that pulse, god, because his face was  _ right there,  _ by Langa’s heart.

“S’warm,” Reki mumbled, and Langa covered his face with his hands, hoping it would end and hoping it would never, ever, ever end. 

But Reki popped up a moment later, taking his arms away, scrambling backward on the bed to make room for Langa, who sat down gingerly. He rubbed his hands on his sweatpants. They had slept in the same bed countless times before, and Reki had never made it weird, but now that they had kissed, Langa was sort of afraid that he’d stay up all night watching Reki’s mouth while he breathed. 

“Hey,” said Reki, tugging the blankets down, and obediently Langa crawled under them, settling against the pillows. Reki was watching him, and Langa examined the edge of the quilt, the flush rising again, because he thought that if he looked at Reki right now he would probably burst into a million tiny flames.

“What?” he asked, when Reki didn’t continue. 

Reki cleared his throat, shifting on the mattress. “Uh,” he said. “I don’t know. We don’t have to, but, uh, I keep thinking about...you know. Like, if we end up going to the mixer, and I don’t know, something happens, and...and I was just thinking maybe we should practice again? Just so I’m—” He coughed. “So we’re both prepared.” 

Langa looked at him. He ached, all over, when he thought about Reki preparing tonight for someone better he might kiss tomorrow, but in the yellow light of his lamp, Reki’s face looked soft, relaxed, the smallest wrinkle between his eyebrows. 

“Okay,” said Langa, quietly, and then he hesitated. “Are you...are you nervous? For the mixer?” 

Reki shrugged, rubbing at his elbow, and then gave an awkward laugh. “I don’t know,” he said. “I guess? Maybe? It’s just, I’m worried...I’m worried they won’t like me, you know, or they’ll think I’m weird.” 

Langa pressed his hands into the mattress. He thought of the girl’s horrible voice,  _ annoying,  _ and he wanted to tell Reki they didn’t have to go. They could just burrow under these blankets, pull the quilt over their heads and stay there forever, but Reki wouldn’t want that, he wanted to find someone else. 

It was difficult to swallow. “You’re not weird,” said Langa softly, and Reki made a face, so he amended, “Well, sometimes, but in a good way. It’s…” He fumbled for the word. “It’s endearing.”

“Aw,” said Reki, and in the dim light Langa imagined that he was blushing, even though he knew Reki wouldn’t blush over something like that, it was just the truth. “C’mere. Okay. We’re going to practice, and we’re gonna get better.”

He moved closer, so their thighs were brushing, and Langa swallowed again. Something about the way Reki said  _ c’mere  _ was so affectionate that Langa just wanted to melt into his side, lay his head on Reki’s shoulder. Things felt different when they were side-by-side like this, when they had to turn their faces to look at each other, and it was different at night, in the dark. Langa could see the shadows on Reki’s face when he put his hand on Langa’s shoulder. 

“Do you wanna start?” asked Langa, quiet, and Reki chuckled. 

“Does one of us have to start?” 

Langa shrugged, a little helplessly, because even though he was supposed to be the one teaching Reki, he had never gotten around to learning anything new. Reki put his hand on Langa's face, cradling his jaw the same way he had done the last time, and he drew Langa in. 

This time Langa was expecting the warm brush of Reki’s mouth, but it still made a shiver go through his whole body. He felt Reki’s lips pull away and then come back, a firmer kiss this time, as if Reki had needed to take a deep breath first. Langa tried to tilt his head, and it sort of worked, because their mouths slid against each other, and Reki made a muffled sound against him. 

Langa just focused on Reki’s mouth for a while, the way his lips moved, the way Reki breathed through his nose, his face warm and so, so close. Then Reki began to stroke his thumb across the bony curve of Langa’s jaw, and Langa gave a breathy whine that he nearly choked on, because god, it felt good, the way Reki held his face so carefully with his rough, callused fingers. Reki breathed a laugh against his mouth, and Langa knew his face was hot, but he didn’t want to pull away, so he put his own hand on Reki’s upper arm and squeezed. 

  
For the first time he felt the muscle there, the firmness of Reki’s bicep, and his head went dizzy for a moment before he squeezed again. God. Jesus. Their mouths fell apart so they could breathe, and Reki rested his forehead against Langa’s, his hair tickling Langa’s face. 

“Is it good?” Reki whispered. “Am I doing okay?” 

Langa’s stomach twisted. “Yeah,” he whispered back. He opened his eyes, just slightly, and he could see Reki gazing at him, something so, so soft in his eyes that made Langa want to cry. Slowly Reki traced his thumb along Langa’s jaw again, and Langa knew how much the verbal affirmation meant to him so he choked out, “S’really good. You’re gonna be...you’re gonna be so good for her.”

“For who?” 

“For…” Langa didn’t know, he didn’t want to say. So instead he let his eyes fall shut again and pressed forward, and his mouth bumped against the corner of Reki’s lips on accident, but Reki just guided them back together and then they were kissing again. 

It felt so nice, all the tiny ways that Reki was touching him, his thigh firm against Langa’s, his fingers stroking Langa’s jaw, their noses bumping. Langa could just breathe in and there was Reki, his pink, wet mouth moving against Langa’s own, and each touch felt so precious that Langa wanted to pause and appreciate every single moment. He kept thinking Reki would pull away and the moments would die, but he stayed close, holding Langa there with him. 

When Reki touched his tongue to Langa’s mouth, pushing a little against his bottom lip, Langa could feel another hot thrill going down his body. He had almost forgotten that they were meant to be learning how to use tongue; he would have been so content with just mouthing softly against each other forever. 

And then Reki’s thumb was at his jaw again, trying to coax Langa’s mouth open, and the hot thrill went down Langa’s body again, because, oh, Reki was impatient. Hastily Langa tilted his head and touched his own tongue to Reki’s, lightly, so lightly, and Reki made this quiet sound of approval in his throat that made Langa’s toes curl, hot, in his socks. 

He slid his hand up Reki’s arm, just under the sleeve of his t-shirt, and Reki cupped Langa’s face with his other hand, so warm that Langa might melt, and he touched their tongues together again. Langa thought he might die from the touch, even though it was so small, and so brief, but they did it again, and again, and Langa could feel his breathing growing heavier, at the way Reki kept coming back for more, as if he couldn’t get enough, as if he  _ wanted  _ Langa, as if this felt good for him, too, and god, did it feel good for him too? Did he feel all hot and bothered in his t-shirt, like it was caught too tight around his chest? 

God, his mouth was so warm. 

Reki tilted Langa’s head to one side, and Langa pressed his toes into the mattress, choking back a whine at how  _ good  _ it felt to be maneuvered like that, the same way Reki fixed his feet into the right position on a skateboard, and Langa was panting now, except Reki didn’t stop the way he had last time. He slipped his tongue further into Langa’s mouth, stroking over his bottom lip and then touching the roof of his mouth, careful, like he wanted to see what would happen, and Langa gave a shuddery moan against him. 

For a moment Langa couldn’t breathe; he didn’t dare open his eyes. God. He had made such an embarrassing sound, such a horrible sound, but Reki still didn’t pull away. His fingers made soothing circles on Langa’s jaw as he kissed him again, chaste and sweet, just their lips against each other again like he knew he had overwhelmed Langa and was trying to say he was sorry. 

They kissed again like that for a long time. Slowly the tightness around Langa’s chest began to relax, and he leaned further into Reki, because Reki’s hands on his face made him feel safe, almost loved. Of course Reki only held him so carefully because he cared about Langa, as a friend, but it was so nice to be cared for, and since Reki was kissing him, Langa let himself forget about anything else.

“You look sleepy,” Reki mumbled against him, smoothing a piece of hair off Langa’s forehead, and the touch felt so good that Langa hoped he would do it again and again, and for a while Reki did, just smoothing the tightness in Langa’s temple. “Do you wanna sleep, dude?” he whispered, pulling away more completely, and Langa whined a little at the loss. “You’re falling asleep on me.” 

Langa hadn’t realized how tired he was until he opened his eyes. The shadows on Reki’s face were soft from the lamplight, his hair loose, falling over his forehead. “Uh-huh,” said Langa, a bit incoherent, and Reki laughed quietly and leaned over him to turn off the light. In this position his chest was nearly pressed against Langa’s, so close he could feel the rise and fall of Reki’s breathing, and Langa let his eyes drift closed again. 

“Thanks for helping me,” Reki whispered in the darkness, guiding Langa’s head down to the pillows, and Langa mumbled against his hand, which felt good. But then Reki took his hand away, which wasn’t good, and Langa whimpered, and Reki chuckled softly and tugged the blankets over them. Then he put his hand on top of Langa’s, and the whimper died away. He was warm. Langa was warm, too, because he was with Reki. 

“Mm,” he mumbled, which he meant to be goodnight, and Reki whispered, 

“Goodnight,” and then, a moment later, “It was good, right, Langa? I thought it was good. It felt really good,” and Langa was too tired to respond, but when he fell asleep all he dreamed about was Reki. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all, I blushed through this WHOLE THING, both from the secondhand embarrassment of Langa being dumb and also all the gooeyness of that last bit. I wanted to update this sooner, but I realized I'm a very slow writer and I wanted to make sure there was kissing in this chapter like I promised! So I hope it was worth the wait :)
> 
> (P.S. the kind comments on my last chapter really made my heart warm! I love these two and how supportive the fandom has been, I've been loving every single Renga fic I read. Thank you so much for reading!)


	3. Chapter 3

Langa was dreaming of a warm fire in his home in Canada. The hearth was hot, and he was buried in blankets with Reki, his father’s voice rumbling in the background somewhere, and Reki was hugging him tightly to his chest. Everything smelled good, like the summer heat and the garage of DopeSketch, and Reki’s arms held him softly, so Langa could feel his breathing. For once Langa was completely safe. No one would ever leave him, he would never be alone, he was with Reki and Reki was his and he was safe. 

Langa shifted. The dream began to blur, the colors of the fire falling away, and suddenly behind his closed eyelids Langa could see a pale light. When he shifted again, squinting his eyes open, he could see the morning sun peeking through the windows of his apartment. 

And Reki was holding him. 

Langa’s breath stuck in his throat. He blinked at the curtains, past the crumpled fabric of Reki’s hoodie and the mountain of blankets around them, and then glanced up at Reki. Reki’s face was half-buried in the pillows, his hair everywhere, his headband caught somewhere in the tangles, and he was clinging tightly to Langa, holding him so that Langa’s head was nestled against his shoulder, in the hood of his sweatshirt. 

Langa’s heart fluttered hard against his ribs, against every corner of his chest, and Reki snuggled into his blankets, his open mouth pressed to the pillows. He could see the way Reki’s eyelashes clumped together, sticking to his skin, and the rosy flush of his cheeks, warm in his sleep. In the pale glow of the sunrise, Reki looked soft and angelic, almost ethereal, and Langa gazed up at the tiny wrinkle between Reki’s eyebrows. 

He wanted to kiss him there. 

Langa fisted his hands in the blankets. Reki smelled good, the way he always did, a little bit like S, a little bit like sweat and a little bit like Langa, and he was in Langa’s bed, buried under Langa’s blankets, his warm hands balled up between Langa’s shoulder blades. Langa squeezed his eyes closed and tried to tell himself that it didn’t mean anything. Reki was just his friend, he just got cuddly at night, he always got cuddly, it didn’t mean anything. But Langa’s brain was so tired and it was so hard to convince himself that he and Reki didn’t belong together like this, that Reki wasn’t going to kiss his forehead sleepily and murmur good morning and kiss Langa with that sleep-clumsy mouth and… 

Reki mumbled something intelligible against the pillows. Langa squinted his eyes open again, trying to shift backward so he could see Reki more clearly, but Reki’s arms tightened immediately, pulling him even closer than before. 

“Ngh,” Reki mumbled, his mouth working against the pillows, his fists clutching at Langa’s t-shirt. “Ngh...uh...Langa.” 

Langa stopped breathing. Reki’s voice sounded rough and thick with sleep, the scratchy pitch higher than usual, and his hands scrabbled at Langa's t-shirt again, trying to tug him even closer. Langa could hear his heartbeat fluttering again, except now he was nearly chest-to-chest with Reki, so maybe it was Reki's heartbeat, and oh, God, he was close enough to feel Reki's heartbeat, and Reki had mumbled his name into his pillows, and Langa’s toes curled in his socks, because he wanted to bury his face in Reki’s chest so badly. 

Reki shifted so that his face was against Langa's hair, breathing in, and then he gave a contented sort of sigh, snuggling against Langa, and Langa thought he was going to die, because his chest was squeezing so tightly, into a tiny little ball, and at the same time his pulse was thrumming in the tips of his fingers, as if he was going to combust and explode all at once. 

Reki was always clingy in his sleep. He always was. He would cling onto anything. Langa repeated those things to himself, squeezing his eyes shut again. Reki just wanted something to cling to. He just wanted to cuddle. He just wanted to cuddle.

And, god, Langa wanted to cuddle too. He was so afraid of falling asleep next to Reki one night and waking up alone (the way he had fallen asleep in his parents’ bed one night and had woken up alone and and and) and it was all he wanted, to cuddle against sleep-heavy Reki and his warm, warm body. Reki felt so safe, so good, and Langa’s heart was so weak that after a minute he gave in. Carefully he slid his arms around Reki's body and squeezed him, hanging onto the back of Reki’s sweatshirt, holding his breath and bracing for Reki to suddenly awake and pull away with an awkward laugh. But Reki just nuzzled his face into Langa's hair, and Langa held on tightly. His heartbeat was still vibrating at a mile a minute in every one of his limbs, but Reki was still asleep, and Langa closed his eyes again, telling himself this was okay. They could love each other like this, even if it wasn’t exactly the way Langa wished for. 

He imagined that Reki kissed the top of his head in his sleep, but really he knew it was just Reki's mouth working over another incoherent mumble. 

They stayed that way for half an hour, and Langa breathed slowly so that their chests would rise and fall together, and he allowed his tense muscles to relax against Reki's warm, warm body. He was like a hot water bottle, Langa thought, drowsy again from the lull of Reki's breathing, the soothing weight of Reki's arm across his body. If they slept this way every night, then Langa would never lie awake in the darkness again, he would sleep so well, like a baby, with Reki holding him and mumbling adorable nonsense into his hair. 

But at eight-thirty the alarm on Langa's phone began buzzing, and Reki shifted with a groan, and quickly Langa rolled onto his back to grope at the side table. Reki's arm still rested heavily across Langa's chest, but he didn’t want to shake him off, so he let Reki grumble into the quiet as he lifted the phone to his face and squinted at it. 

It took him an embarrassingly long time to realize the phone he was holding wasn't his own. The background glowed with a colorful selfie of him and Reki, squished against each other, a selfie taken before Langa could think to smile, and against the background, reminders began to pop up, one after another after another. 

Langa rubbed his eyes, squinting at the screen. It was still hard to read Japanese, but he could make out most of the words, _Remember your bento,_ and then, _Text Langa good morning!_

Langa felt his chest flush, warm in his t-shirt, and next to him Reki grumbled into the pillows, trying to tug Langa back with his limp, clumsy arm. Langa knew he shouldn't read Reki's private reminders, but his eyes were already scanning through the rest, catching on his name: _Ask Langa if he slept good last night (he forgets to sleep sometimes)! Remember the code for Langa's locker (6628) in case he forgets again! Hug Langa when you get a chance (he always looks cold)!_

"Ngh-uh," Reki mumbled, lifting his hand to swat at Langa's chest, and Langa jolted, burning hot where Reki's fingers skidding against his t-shirt. "Tu'n off th'alarm." 

Hastily Langa rolled over and placed Reki's phone back on the nightstand, grabbing his own and fumbling with the alarm. Then he lay on his side a moment, catching his breath, and Reki sat up, yawning, taking his arm away from Langa's body to stretch. Langa felt hot all over at the thought of all those reminders, things Reki had written down to make sure Langa was taken care of every day. 

Jesus. Langa rubbed at his face. Reki deserved better friends, friends who wouldn't snuggle into his warm embrace and pray he wouldn't wake up too soon. 

"G'morning," Reki mumbled. Langa sat up, and Reki gave him a sleepy grin as he pushed his hair out of his face, tugging his headband off. Langa had to clear his throat before he could say anything, and even then his voice cracked on, 

"Good morning,"

and Reki laughed a little, bumping their shoulders together. Langa was going to overheat, with their legs still tucked under the heavy quilts and their bodies leaning against each other, but he wanted to stay here forever, he never wanted to get up. And then Reki wiggled his toes under the blankets and said, "Big day today!" 

At first Langa didn't know what he meant, and his mind went to the reminders, trying to figure out if any of them had been special. But then the realization sank into his stomach like a heavy weight. The mixer. They had to go to the mixer today. 

“Oh,” he said. “Yeah.”

Reki beamed at him, his eyes all crinkled up, his hair sticking up at wild angles that only Langa ever got to see, and Langa’s stomach hurt. He could already imagine the kind of girl Reki might find tonight. A pretty girl, shorter than him instead of gangly like Langa, with smooth hands instead of bandaged, awkward hands like Langa’s, a sweet laugh instead of Langa’s deep, strangled one. Langa pushed the blankets off their feet, the weight still heavy in his stomach, and Reki scrambled out of the bed. 

Langa stood up more slowly, watching Reki fish through his overnight bag, even though he wanted to stay in bed forever. Maybe soon Reki wouldn’t want them to sleep together anymore. He would tell Langa he was sorry, it was just awkward now, with Reki’s new girlfriend, and Langa would say it was alright even though something inside him would die, because he would have to go back to sleeping all alone, always alone. 

Then Reki paused, glancing up, and Langa waited for him to say something, but he didn’t, he just stared at him with a crease forming between his eyebrows. 

“What?” Langa said. 

Reki jumped a little, rubbing his mouth. “Uh,” he said, and then laughed nervously. “I’m sorry for, uh, for being all over you like that. I mean, when we were sleeping. I mean, my kid sisters always do that to me and it’s super annoying so I didn’t mean to annoy you but I thought I should probably say something so it didn’t get awkward and…” 

“Reki,” Langa said, and Reki broke off, his hands twisting the strings of his hoodie together. “You always do that. It’s not a big deal.”

“I know!” said Reki. “I know. I know. You’re right. Sorry.” He grabbed his things out of his overnight bag and scrambled to his feet. Langa didn’t understand why he seemed so flustered—he clung onto Langa every time they slept together, nothing had changed. So when Reki squeezed past Langa toward the bathroom, Langa put his hand quickly on Reki’s shoulder. 

Reki looked at him. Without his headband on his hair was so long, brushing the apples of his cheeks, wispy and soft. Langa swallowed and said, “I don’t mind, okay? It’s okay.” 

“Okay,” said Reki, watching Langa’s face for a moment, like he was making sure Langa meant it, and then he grinned. “After I change do you wanna hit the park? And then we can ride to DopeSketch together?”

“Okay,” said Langa, because of course he wanted to spend as much time as possible with Reki, things were never the same when they were apart. But when Reki locked himself into the bathroom, Langa sank back onto the edge of the bed, staring at his feet. He wished that could be their whole day: skating, work, and then a walk home in the late afternoon, with Reki trying new tricks and falling and scraping up his elbows. They could just spend time together, no one else. 

But that wasn’t what Reki wanted, so Langa swallowed and then swallowed again and made himself stand up. 

* * *

“I’m gonna shower,” said Reki, when they got back to his house after work, “and then we can go!” 

“Okay,” said Langa. He wavered in the middle of Reki’s room while Reki gathered his towels. Reki’s family all shared the same bathroom, which meant Reki’s showers usually only lasted five minutes, but today Langa didn’t want him to hurry—he was dreading leaving the house. What if the girls at the mixer said something nasty to Reki’s face? He checked his phone, but there were no new messages, only the one from earlier giving him the address to the restaurant. 

“Be right back,” said Reki, clapping a warm hand on Langa’s shoulder as he squeezed past him, and Langa gasped out a “yeah” even though the way Reki touched him nearly made him drop his phone. 

He sat on the bed to wait, scrolling through his and Reki’s messages. Reki sent heart emojis with nearly everything, because he’d once heard Canadians were “super nice” and he wanted Langa to feel “at home.” Langa sank backward onto the bed, holding his phone above his face, scrolling until he found his favorite message:  _ you’re my favorite person <3,  _ Reki had written at 2:33 am two weeks ago, when Langa said he would buy Reki lunch the next day at school. It was a simple message, and even though it was sort of a joke, Langa thought there was a good chance that he really  _ was  _ Reki’s favorite person, at least right now. They spent so much time together. He let himself read the message over and over, holding the phone close to his eyes, imagining himself being Reki’s favorite person forever and ever. 

When Reki’s door screeched open three minutes later, Langa dropped the phone on his face. He heard Reki laugh as the door closed. “Man, I think you need to get your eyes checked,” he said. “Whenever you read stuff you always have to hold it like one inch away from your face.”

“It’s easier to see if it’s close.” 

“That’s what I mean!” said Reki. 

Langa picked up the phone and sat up, blinking, and then he blinked some more, heat rising to his face, because Reki was wearing only his jeans with his towel around his neck, his hair dripping down onto his shoulders. His hair was so dark when it got wet, and Langa swallowed, trying not to stare at the birthmark on Reki’s ribcage, the freckles across his upper arms. 

“How do you even see when you’re skating?” Reki continued, opening his drawers and searching for a clean shirt. “You’re going to crash into something and wipe out one of these days.”

“I can see big shapes,” said Langa. 

“Don’t your eyes hurt?” Reki turned around, his tongue in his cheek, grinning, and Langa swallowed again. He wanted to say that he could see Reki perfectly fine, he could see the dips of Reki’s collarbones collecting water, he could see every twitch of the muscles in Reki’s stomach as he pulled the shirt over his head. Reki laughed at him again, and Langa quickly looked away, trying to pretend like he hadn’t been staring. “You’re such an airhead,” said Reki, and he sounded fond, as if he thought it was cute, and Langa rubbed his hands on his pants even though they weren’t sweaty. 

“Are you going to go with wet hair?” he asked, and Reki glanced at the mirror, making a face at himself. 

“I thought it would dry on the way over,” he said. 

“Okay,” said Langa, but then Reki was looking at him again, one hand going up and hovering around his dripping hair. 

“Does it look bad?” he asked, and there was a catch in his voice, something uncertain, and Langa wanted to punch himself for making Reki sound that way. He hadn’t meant it like  _ that.  _ Reki always looked good to him, even when they had stayed up way too late at S and Reki was falling asleep on the moped, drooling onto Langa’s shoulder, and okay, maybe Langa wasn’t the most unbiased judge but Reki was  _ adorable.  _

“No,” Langa said, and then hesitated. “I just thought maybe you would get sick going out like that.” 

“Ah,” said Reki. He didn’t sound convinced, and he rubbed the towel over his head, still looking in the mirror. Langa hated to think that Reki might look at himself in the mirror and see someone imperfect, someone other than the precious bumbling lovable idiot that Langa saw. Reki always looked good, Langa thought, he always looked warm and sunburnt and happy and he gave the best hugs, and Langa balled up his hands, because he wanted to tell Reki how pretty he looked in the early morning light but he couldn’t figure out how to phrase it without giving himself away. 

“Do you, um.” Langa wasn’t sure how to ask. “Do you not like the way you look?” 

“Oh,” said Reki. He dropped the towel, pushing his hair out of his face, still gazing at the mirror. “I don’t know? I guess I think I look okay, but no one else ever seems to think so.” He gave a laugh, like it was meant to be a joke, but the laugh sounded off and Langa’s heart sank. 

“I—um.” He wanted to say  _ he  _ thought so, but instead he made himself say, “I’m sure a lot of people do. You have, um. You have a good smile.” 

“Yeah?” Reki turned around, a soft grin on his face, and Langa nodded, because he didn’t trust his voice to explain the way Reki’s dimples looked like the sun coming up, or how cute his one crooked front tooth was, or the way his cheeks rounded out and made Langa smile, too, before he could stop himself. “Okay. You have good eyes. Well, you have a good everything. Man, you’re so handsome I feel like I must be dreaming sometimes, you know?” 

Langa choked. “Wh—what?’ 

“Yeah,” said Reki. “Like, there’s no way anyone’s hair looks like  _ that  _ in real life.” He reached forward and lifted a piece of Langa’s hair right off his face, and all Langa could do was blink at him, speechless. He couldn’t breathe, and Reki was so close, and then Reki hummed a little, tucking the hair back, his hand ghosting against the shell of Langa’s ear. Langa shivered, and Reki said, almost to himself. “It’s so freakin’  _ soft,  _ man. How do you get your hair so soft?” 

It took Langa a whole minute to realize Reki was talking to him. He blinked, and tried to say, “Um,” but the word stuck in his throat and he had to try again. Reki was still standing so close, so close that Langa could see his eyelashes and his soft smile, and god how could he think when he was trying to process Reki’s perfect eyelashes? “I, uh. I use conditioner. My mom buys it.” 

“Really?” Reki let his hand fall, and Langa shivered again, at the loss. “I think my mom has some. Can I put it in now?” 

“I think so,” said Langa, and Reki grabbed his arm and tugged him down the hallway into the small bathroom, which was decorated with a leaf-print wallpaper. Reki stood on his tiptoes, peering into the shower, and then emerged with a small, green bottle. 

“I always see it in the shower,” Reki explained. “But I never knew what it was for. Show me?” He placed the bottle in Langa’s hands, and Langa’s mouth felt dry, but he nodded. 

“Do you want me to—” He gestured vaguely at the mess of Reki’s hair, unsure how to explain, and Reki nodded, turning around so they were both facing the bathroom mirror. 

“Please,” he said, and Langa nodded, more to himself than to Reki, as if to say,  _ okay, I can do this.  _ Carefully he poured a small handful of the conditioner into his palm, placing the bottle on the counter, and then spread it between his hands, hovering behind Reki. 

“It’s okay?” 

“It’s okay,” Reki confirmed, meeting his eyes in the mirror and grinning, and Langa’s stomach felt bottomless when he saw that he had grown taller than Reki, only a couple of inches, but for some reason it made his whole body clench and then unclench. 

Gingerly he touched Reki’s hair. Reki closed his eyes, and the sight made Langa swallow, but he needed to do this, because he had agreed, so he carefully slid his fingers into Reki’s hair, resting his palms against his scalp. Reki’s hair was damp and rough, thicker than Langa’s and more textured, but Reki rocked a little on the balls of his feet and hummed, and Langa wanted to keep touching him, any way he could. He smoothed the conditioner from root to tip, trying not to miss any pieces of Reki’s wild hair, and when he had finished he let his hands linger, rubbing the conditioner into Reki’s scalp, brushing his hair away from his temples. 

“S’nice,” Reki mumbled, and Langa froze. 

“What?” 

Reki opened his eyes. “Oh,” he said, and then his body sort of tightened, and he laughed awkwardly. “Sorry! I just. It feels nice. When you play with my hair, I mean. It’s not weird. I mean, it’s not weird, right?” 

Langa shook his head quickly, because it  _ did  _ feel nice, for him too, the texture of Reki’s hair in his hands, the way Reki stood so close that his back nearly touched Langa’s chest. “It’s not weird.” 

“Okay,” said Reki, relaxing again. “Should I brush it now?” 

“I can do it,” said Langa, surprising himself, but the grin Reki gave him in the mirror made him feel fuzzy. Reki handed him a wooden brush, and carefully Langa ran it through his hair, combing it down over his neck so that the tips dripped onto his shoulders. Even with his hair wet, it still sprang up after Langa brushed it down.

“My mom says my hair is untamable,” Reki explained.

“I like it,” said Langa, because he was so focused now on Reki’s hair that he forgot to filter his words, and Reki gave a muffled, embarrassed sort of laugh. 

“Thanks, Langa,” he said, and Langa’s chest pressed against his lungs at the way Reki said his name, quiet and affectionate, and quickly he put the brush down so he could step away and breathe. 

“I think it’ll look good,” he said, and Reki nodded, turning around. 

“Hey,” he said, and something changed in his voice, and he glanced over Langa’s shoulder at the open door. “D’you wanna...I mean, my sisters are home. Hang on, lemme close this.” 

He bumped against Langa’s arm as he reached past him to close the door, and Langa watched him, his throat going dry again. “What?” he asked. 

“We still have a little while, right?” Reki said, and Langa nodded, trying to calm his heart, which was beating so fast it was beginning to hurt. “We could, y’know. Just for fun. I mean, to hype ourselves up before...before the big event.” 

“Don’t call it that,” said Langa, his voice scratchy from his dry throat, and Reki laughed nervously. 

“Sorry,” he said. “I just—I thought, y’know, we could use the adrenaline boost or, I don’t know, do you wanna? We could—”

“I want to,” said Langa, his mouth working faster than his brain, and Reki broke off, their eyes meeting, and after a beat Reki grinned again. 

“Okay!” he said. “Cool.” Before Langa could say anything, Reki hopped up onto the counter, spreading his knees, and he held out his hands, beckoning Langa forward. “C’mere,” he said, and Langa’s heart hammered against his ribs as he moved closer, because there was no way he was going to say _no_ but oh _god_ Reki moved his legs apart so Langa could squeeze in between them, and then Reki’s legs pressed against either side of Langa’s waist, his hands coming up to cup Langa’s face, lifting his chin. 

Oh god, Langa thought, almost dizzy with the touch, with the weight of Reki’s legs holding him there. In this position Reki was above him, Langa had to tilt his face up to reach his mouth, and he thought he was going to pass out before they even got to kiss, because Reki’s skin was so warm and flushed from the shower and his grin was so pretty and fuck, fuck. 

“Mm,” said Reki, still holding his face, pinching his cheeks a little so Langa wrinkled his nose, heart still pounding. “This is what you would look like to me if I was taller than you, huh? It feels good.” 

“Stop,” said Langa, muffled, and Reki laughed, the sound rumbling through his body, and then,  _ god,  _ he stretched out his legs and crossed his ankles behind Langa’s back, tugging him impossibly closer, so their chests were practically touching and Reki’s firm legs were caging Langa in and then he kissed him, and Langa couldn’t  _ breathe.  _

Reki’s mouth was wet from the water, and he sort of laughed against Langa’s mouth, and this time Langa could  _ feel  _ the sound through their bodies, and god, Reki’s  _ laugh,  _ Reki sounded so joyful and good and he was hugging Langa’s body with his legs like he wanted him close—like he couldn’t get enough of him. Langa kissed back, rising up on his tiptoes to press closer, almost feverish with this sudden desperation to be with him, to kiss him, oh god to  _ kiss  _ him _.  _ Reki leaned back on the counter, still holding onto Langa’s waist and Langa’s jaw and laughing again, pulling back, so Langa had to chase him, making an aborted, frustrated noise. 

“You’re so impatient,” Reki teased, holding Langa’s face so he couldn’t get closer, and Langa whined in his throat, and Reki laughed again before ducking down to brush their mouths together.  _ Yes,  _ Langa thought, and  _ oh god,  _ and he tried to deepen the kiss, his hands on the tops of Reki’s thighs, pressing into the rough denim of his jeans, but Reki kept pulling back before Langa could kiss him good enough and Langa huffed out an annoyed breath. 

“Stop,” he tried to stretch up, “teasing me,” and Reki chuckled to himself, smoothing his fingers along Langa’s cheeks, the soft bumps of acne above his jaw. 

“But it’s fun,” Reki said, and his voice was doing things to Langa’s stomach, the way he sounded so  _ pleased  _ with himself, the edge of laughter creeping in. Reki tightened his legs around Langa’s waist, pressing Langa’s bony hips against the counter, and finally he ducked his head enough that Langa could latch onto his mouth again. 

The kiss was clumsy, he could feel Reki’s teeth bumping against his bottom lip, but Reki’s mouth was hot and Langa’s fingers dug into his thighs, holding on tightly. When Reki tilted his head Langa nearly moaned with how perfect it was, the pressure of his mouth, the sweet softness of his lips, the way his fingers massaged at the skin just under Langa’s jaw, where no one ever touched him. 

Reki pulled away again, but only slightly, his breathing a bit heavy against Langa’s mouth, and slid one hand to thumb at Langa’s bottom lip. Reki kissed him again, touching his tongue to the seam of Langa’s mouth, and Langa’s stomach clenched, and Reki pulled away enough to whisper, “You like it when I—” and then did the thing with his tongue again, and Langa whimpered before he could stop himself, pressing up into Reki. Reki gave a breathy laugh against his lips, and then he slid his tongue into Langa’s mouth, hot, and Langa whimpered again.

He wanted to kiss back, but all he could feel was the rough pads of Reki’s fingertips, the warmth of his tongue touching Langa’s teeth, his lips, the fumbling of the mouths together. Langa made fists on top of Reki’s legs, the flush on his face so hot Reki must feel it, too, and then Reki pulled back to gasp a breath. And then Langa rose up on his tiptoes again, chasing his lips, and then they both had tongues in each other’s mouths, more panting than kissing, and Langa felt Reki run his tongue along the roof of his mouth, just to feel Langa shudder against him. 

This was bad; this was very bad. 

It was bad because he could feel the way Reki’s tongue pressed against his bottom lip, the way Reki pulled back to breathe only to kiss him again, and he could feel the back of Reki’s teeth with his tongue as he clumsily tried to replicate the move, and then—and then he slid his tongue along the roof of Reki’s own mouth and Reki moaned against him, he actually  _ moaned,  _ a low, raspy sort of sound, and Langa could feel his heartbeat behind his eyes, in his fingertips, in his mouth. God. Fuck. He had made Reki feel  _ good.  _

When they pulled apart Langa felt dizzier than ever, as if he would fall over without Reki’s strong legs holding him upright, and Reki’s face was flushed, his lips swollen. When he licked the corner of his mouth Langa had to lean heavily on his wrists, still propped up on Reki’s thighs, because god the kissing had made his mouth look like  _ that,  _ all red and bruised and wet and  _ god.  _ Langa had made him look like that. 

“I feel hype,” said Reki, his voice scratchy, his hair a mess. “How about you?” 

“Ah,” said Langa, incoherent, and Reki laughed in that low, throaty way, swiping his thumb over Langa’s bottom lip again. 

“I should probably — one more time,” Reki said, and he leaned in and kissed Langa flush on the mouth, firm, and then pulled away again, lifting his chin. Langa looked up at him, helpless, his mind completely gone, and Reki said, “Mm. Yeah. One more time.” 

Langa squeezed his eyes shut as Reki kissed him again, and then a second time, and a third. It felt so good Langa never wanted it to end, he wanted Reki to continue deciding he needed another kiss and another and another until the time for the mixer passed and they could just go bundle up in his room again and watch skating videos until they fell asleep. 

But finally Reki pulled away completely, his ankles bouncing against Langa’s back, and smoothed Langa’s hair out of his face with both hands. “Ah, Langa, you’re so pretty,” he said, in a sort of wistful voice, and Langa opened his eyes to stare up at him, his whole body full and aching and longing to communicate somehow all the things he didn’t have words for, and Reki’s kiss-swollen mouth pulled into a smile. He tucked Langa’s hair behind his ears and said, “The girls are gonna love you,” and all Langa’s hopes shattered.

He felt Reki’s legs fall away and, probably a minute too late, he remembered to step backward. His mouth was aching with the sweet bruise of Reki’s mouth pressing against him, and he almost lifted his fingers to touch, as if the feeling would be tangible somehow, although of course it wouldn’t be. Reki hopped down from the counter, his t-shirt tangling around his waist, and Langa looked away while he straightened it out, fluffing his hair with his fingers. 

“You good?” Reki asked, and Langa could hear that nervous edge creeping into his voice again, like maybe Reki thought Langa was being weird because he didn’t like the kissing, and not because Langa was desperately, pathetically in love with him. Langa cleared his throat. 

“Yeah,” he said. “That was good, um…” He searched for the word Reki had used. “Adrenaline.”

“Hell yeah,” said Reki, punching his chest lightly, his fist lingering there until Langa swallowed again. “You think you’re going to meet someone you like? Probably everyone there will wanna be with you.” 

_ Everyone but you,  _ thought Langa, even though that was pathetically sad, and he twisted his hands in the hem of his button-down. “I don’t know,” he said. “I’m not really looking for...for anyone.” 

“Right,” said Reki, a sort of resigned note in his voice, but he still patted Langa’s shoulder affectionately, like he knew Langa would probably be single until the day he died, in spite of all Reki’s best wingman efforts. Langa tried not to look at him, because Reki looked so good in his rumbled t-shirt with his lips all bruised up, with those hands that had held Langa’s face while Reki laughed against his mouth. How could Reki go to this mixer and meet someone new looking like  _ that _ —like he had just finished messing up Langa’s entire brain in his bathroom? 

“We should go,” Langa said, even though he wanted nothing less, and Reki bobbed his head and opened the door. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUYS I AM SO SORRY that they still didn't make it to the mixer in this chapter! I absolutely planned on it, but then I realized I had written 5k words and nothing had happened and I was like, fuck. I figured that adding the mixer would make this chapter too long, and I wanted to post so y'all could have some fluff, so I hope you will be satisfied until next chapter!
> 
> (Also -- the comments I have gotten on this fic have been absolutely wonderful and I cannot express how much they mean to me. Seriously I've never written so much and so fast as I have been for this fic so thank you all so so so much!!! Y'all are too kind.)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all, please note that I added a tag for the panic attack in this chapter! If you would like more details please go to the end notes before reading <3

The sidewalk outside the restaurant was buzzing with people when Langa parked his moped on the side of the road, pausing to glance up at the evening sky. Behind him, Reki took off his helmet, shaking out his hair, and Langa squeezed the handlebars, because Reki’s body was so warm when they sat together on the moped like this. Reki always hugged him around the waist to keep his balance, and Langa wasn’t ready for that part of the night to end. 

“Ready?” asked Reki, when Langa glanced over his shoulder, Reki was grinning so wide his cheeks were round. Langa squeezed the handlebars more tightly. It was such a lively night, couples and families walking by and laughing, and maybe if things were different, Langa and Reki could hold hands as they walked into the restaurant, cramming into a booth so small their knees would press together. Langa had always wanted to know what it would be like to go on a date with Reki. He knew he would probably be too awe-struck to say much, he would just sit there and stare, and maybe Reki would be nervous, too, maybe he’d fumble with his water and laugh too much and get all sweaty. 

Langa shook himself, trying to get rid of the fantasy, and Reki leaned forward and unclipped Langa’s helmet. 

“Don’t zone out on me already, man,” he said, affectionately, ruffling Langa’s hair with his warm, warm hand. “The night is young.” 

Langa swallowed and nodded. Reki paused, looking at him, still smiling, but then the smile faded a bit and he raised his eyebrows. 

“You good?” Reki asked, and Langa wanted to lie, but when he cleared his throat the only thing he could manage was, 

“Um, it’s kinda…” 

“Are you nervous?” 

Langa nodded, relieved. Reki scrunched up his face, sympathetic, and then he tucked Langa’s hair behind his ear. Around them the night was alive with sounds, car doors slamming, but when Reki touched his ear the only thing Langa could focus on were his eyes: big and brown and caring. 

“You don’t have to be nervous,” said Reki, but Langa knew that he understood, and it made his heart squeeze. Even when Reki let his hand fall, their legs were still pressed together on the moped, and Reki hadn’t moved to climb off. “Are you worried about the language thing?” 

Langa hesitated. “Sort of,” he said, even though it wasn’t the only thing he was worried about. “Sometimes if a lot of people are talking and...and I don’t know how to ask them to repeat themselves, I just go along with whatever they say.” 

“You shouldn’t just  _ go along  _ with it,” said Reki, and Langa didn’t know how to answer that. They had only come to the mixer because he had gone along with that girl’s horrible invitation, but he didn’t wanna tell Reki that, and after a pause Reki clapped a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. Even through the fabric Langa could feel the bony bump of the finger Reki had broken twice in the same place. “Do you want me to order for you?” Reki asked. “Will that help?” 

Langa fiddled with the handlebars. “Yes, please,” he said, even though he knew how to order his own food. It was just nice, that Reki would think to do something like that for him, and he wanted to sit at the table with Reki’s arm over his shoulders, while Reki chatted with the waiter before ordering for both of them. Sometimes he felt like he belonged to Reki, somehow. “Thanks.” 

“No problem, dude,” said Reki. He scrambled off the moped, leaving Langa’s back cold, and Langa stuffed the key in his pocket as he stood up slowly, trying to stall. A couple of guys walked past the storefronts holding hands, heads bent together in laughter, and for a moment Langa’s stomach clenched, afraid that Reki would notice and say something. 

But Reki just grabbed his arm and tugged him toward the entrance, hopping over the curb. “Man, I’m nervous too!” he said, even though he didn’t sound nervous to Langa. “But also excited. Hey, is there anyone in particular you wanna sit next to?” 

“You,” said Langa, his mouth working before his brain could catch up, and then he stopped walking, mortified, but Reki just laughed and pulled him along. 

“Okay, man,” he said. “I’ll take care of you. Don’t worry.” 

Langa let his hair fall in front of his face so hopefully Reki wouldn’t see him flush.

The restaurant was bright and crowded inside. Reki squeezed Langa’s arm before releasing him, and Langa swallowed back a protest, because all of a sudden he really wanted to hold Reki’s hand. He glanced over Reki’s shoulder around the restaurant. He had no idea where they were supposed to go, and then he realized that he couldn’t remember any of the girls’ faces, and he grabbed Reki’s arm in a panic. 

“I forget everybody’s names,” he whispered. 

“It’s okay,” said Reki. “We’ll introduce ourselves! I see them over there.” He waved to someone Langa couldn’t find in the crowd, and Langa followed him through the tables and the waitresses, his heart beating sickly in his throat. Sometimes he just got so nervous around big crowds of people like this, and his whole body shut down and his brain wouldn’t work. When they reached the table of their classmates, all their faces began to blur together, indistinguishable, and Langa could barely hear Reki saying hi to everyone. He could never remember faces very well, sometimes he even forgot his father’s face and he had to go find the old photo albums and stare at his father’s features until they were branded into his memory again, but it never lasted, and for a moment Langa’s stomach seized, panicked. 

But then Reki was tugging him through the seats to a couple of chairs near the end of the table, and then Langa was sitting down, with Reki’s arm pressed comfortably to his side, and when he blinked, things began to focus again. Well, mostly. Maybe Langa really did need to get his eyes checked. 

“And this is Langa!” Reki was saying brightly, and Langa blinked again. The girl across from them smiled.

“I know,” she said, shyly. 

“Oh,” said Reki. “I just thought because you’re in class B—well, it’s okay! Of course you know Langa. He’s super popular, but he never believes me when I try to tell him.”

“I’m not popular,” said Langa. “You’re my only friend.”

He didn’t mean it as a joke, but the girl across from him laughed, looking shyly at them. “I’m Yua,” she said. “Langa-kun, I saw you playing soccer last week during class. I was cheering for you.” 

She was very pretty, and she pronounced his name carefully, as if she had practiced to get it just right, and when she smiled, her eyes looked soft at the corners. Langa’s stomach gave an unpleasant squirm. He didn’t want her to look at him like that, and somehow he had forgotten every word he knew in Japanese, so he glanced hastily at Reki. 

Reki jumped in quickly. “Isn’t he amazing?” he said. “I mean, every time I find out I have to go up against him, it’s like, shit. Because right away you know you’re gonna lose, right? And you can’t even be mad, ‘cause he’s so awesome to watch, and then it’s like, gah. Why are you like this, man?” He elbowed Langa, but the only sound Langa could come up with was, 

“Ah, uhhm,” 

and Reki snickered, and Yua shifted in her seat, turning to speak to a passing waiter. 

“You should talk to her!” Reki whispered, leaning close, and Langa’s brain shut down again, staring at the wild hairs of Reki’s eyebrows, the excited expression on his face. “She likes you.” 

“Maybe she likes  _ you _ ,” Langa tried, but Reki shook his head, his hair flopping around, mostly dried by now. Langa realized belatedly that he wanted to touch Reki’s hair, to see if the conditioner had made it softer, but when his hand was halfway in the air he remembered they were in public. He made himself put his hand back in his lap. 

“Her heart is always stolen by you,” said Reki, with a wry sort of smile, and he reached over and grabbed Langa’s wrist, squeezing, and Langa’s brain absolutely fuzzed out, because Reki’s hand was in his  _ lap  _ and they were in  _ public  _ and Reki’s fingers pressed right against his pulse point before letting go. 

Luckily he was saved from needing to say anything, because their waiter was beginning to take orders on the other side of the table, and Reki slid the menu between them. Langa couldn’t understand most of the descriptions, so Reki whispered them to him, pointing at the pictures so Langa would know what everything was. Langa listened carefully, nodding along, glad to have something to focus on that wasn’t the girls chattering around the table. Reki’s voice was calming, he thought, and anytime they were in a crowded place and Langa got overwhelmed, Reki always did this. He would throw his arm around Langa’s shoulders at S and say, “Hey, look at Reki 2.0,” and Langa would focus on the board while Reki explained some complicated method he had used to alter the wheels or something. 

He would barely be able to function without Reki, Langa thought to himself, a bit dazed, and then Reki sat up straight in the chair and told the waiter, “We’re almost ready!” and nudged Langa. “You know what you want?” 

Langa pointed to the picture, and Reki rattled off their order, his hand on the back of Langa’s chair, and somehow he made the waiter, and Langa’s heart sort of glowed, even though he was still looking down at the menu. Reki was so amazing. He could talk to anybody and be totally himself, and he always made people laugh, and Langa felt safe just sitting next to him. Whoever got to have Reki as their boyfriend would be the luckiest person in the world. If Reki was Langa’s boyfriend, Langa would shine with pride every time they went places together, because Reki would make everyone laugh and then hug Langa against his side and everybody would know that even though Reki liked everyone, he liked Langa the best, and…

“Langa-kun?” 

It was the girl across from them again. Langa glanced up, and, shit, he had forgotten her name already, and he scrambled for words, but then Reki was saying, 

“Yua, what did you order?”

“Oh,” Yua said, and then she began to explain a complicated dish Langa had never heard of, and he could feel Reki getting excited next to him, bouncing his knees under the table so much that they trembled Langa’s chair. 

“My mom makes that!” he burst out as soon as Yua finished speaking. “It’s this really old family recipe and every time I eat it I think of her. One time she tried to teach me but I’m super hopeless in the kitchen, so whenever we were making the rice, I forgot about it, and then I practically set the whole stove on fire so I had to run around opening all the windows and looking like an idiot and my mom kicked me out of the house for the rest of the day and said I was never allowed to cook again.” 

Yua paused. After a long moment she said, “Oh, really?” 

“Yeah,” said Reki, sort of laughing at himself, and then he said, “Oh, and Langa, do you remember that time,” and he launched into another story about the time he’d tried to cook Langa an omelet for breakfast, and even though the story was embarrassing (Langa had fallen asleep at the table and drooled all over the t-shirt Reki lent him), he still caught Langa’s attention easily. Reki’s voice was so animated; it had so many different volumes and pitches, and listening to him sometimes felt like listening to several people having a conversation all at once, but in a good way, and Langa wanted to lean closer to him. He wanted to press against Reki’s side. He wanted to…

The waiter paused over their heads, placing their food in front of them, and when Langa glanced up, he saw Yua saying thank you. 

All of a sudden Langa’s heart was sinking. Yua was watching Reki now, nodding slightly as she picked up her chopsticks. Of course. Of course. How had Langa been so stupid? Reki wasn’t talking so Langa could listen to him—he was talking so Yua could listen, and she  _ was  _ listening, giving these polite little  _ oh _ s and  _ really _ s as they started to eat. Reki must like her, Langa thought, and his heart sank further, pressing painfully against his ribcage. The way Yua handled her chopsticks was so delicate, her small hands graceful, and Langa could barely even get his first bite to his mouth without dropping his food. God. Reki was so wonderful, just  _ vibrating  _ with passion and eagerness, and of course he would want someone else equally wonderful, not dull, clumsy Langa, who could barely string together two coherent thoughts. 

“Yua,” said Reki, and the way he said her name made Langa sink down in his seat, his heart even heavier.  _ Say my name, too,  _ he thought, and then poked his chopsticks into his rice, because that was stupid, but he couldn’t help it. He wanted Reki to turn and smile at him again; he wanted Reki’s hands in his lap, warm against Langa’s own fingers. Reki and Yua were talking about someone from their middle school now, and the names all blurred together, people and places Langa didn’t know.

What if Reki started dating her? Once Langa had the image in his head, he couldn’t make it go away, and it filled his whole vision, going dark at the edges. Yua was so pretty and quiet, and her hair fell in these soft curtains around her face, and she would replace Langa so quickly. His heart started thudding against his ribs. Maybe soon a day would come when he would be waiting to walk home with Reki, and Reki would put a hand on his arm, grinning self-consciously, and say,  _ Hey, I’m going to walk with Yua, okay?  _

Langa’s throat tightened. It was just his imagination, he tried to tell himself, heart thumping, it wasn’t real, it wasn’t real—but god what if it was real? Langa would have to walk home all by himself. No one would talk to him, and once he got home, the hours would stretch out before lim, long and lonely, in his empty apartment. He would have to sit quietly by himself for so long, waiting for his mom to come home from work. The thoughts were pressing against his lungs now, cutting off his air, and Langa blinked hastily, once and then again and then again because it  _ wasn’t real  _ but what if it was and what if Reki left him alone? What if Reki stopped leaning against him and nuzzling his head into Langa’s shoulder, who would touch Langa then? 

His hands were trembling, and Langa pulled his sleeves over his fingers because his whole body was cold and he didn’t know how to make it stop, the cold or the trembling or the desperation. 

A girl was trying to talk to him now. She was sitting on his other side, a girl with long curly hair and eyelashes too thick and black to be real. Langa’s ears were full of incoherent noise and he nodded along to whatever she was saying, but his mind was fracturing. Reki had found a girl he liked, he thought distantly, it was happening, it was really happening, and maybe today had been the last time Reki would kiss him. Langa hadn’t appreciated it enough. He hadn’t begged Reki for a couple more minutes, he hadn’t said anything at all, he had just stood there dumbly, caged in by Reki’s warm legs, and let Reki play with his hair and tease him, pulling away from Langa’s mouth. 

He didn’t know how long he sat there. He didn’t know how long he nodded along to the girl’s voice, which sounded far away and much too fast, an accent he couldn’t understand, but finally in a rush of noise and color a waiter lifted his bowl away, and Reki’s hand was on his arm. 

Langa struggled to process. Reki’s hand was on his arm. It was warm. Langa’s body was cold and stiff, as though nobody had touched him for a long time. 

“We’re going,” Reki was saying, and for a moment Langa’s heart lifted, hopeful, they were leaving, he and Reki were leaving together, they were going to be alone together again. But then Reki grinned, his eyes crinkling up at the corners, his face happy and alive and eager, and he said, “We’re gonna walk down to that ice cream place, remember where we took Miya a couple weeks ago? Apparently it’s, like, a super popular date spot.” 

Langa’s heart thudded against his eardrums. He nodded, and Reki pulled him to his feet, and Langa thought distantly that he would be helpless on his own, like a blind person stumbling around, only safe when he was at the top of a mountain, alone, where he couldn’t mess anything up. 

“Was your food good?” Reki asked, when they were outside again, lanterns hanging from the shop windows, their group bundling together on the sidewalk and heading down toward the square. Langa’s stomach growled faintly; the meal hadn’t been nearly enough, and Reki laughed a little, elbowing him. “You’re super quiet, man. Are you sure you’re okay?” 

Langa hesitated. Reki was having a good time, his voice deep with satisfaction, and he seemed happy and Langa didn’t want to ruin it, but Reki had  _ asked.  _ And he was so good at listening, even though he interrupted sometimes, or got distracted, because he always returned his attention to Langa and he always helped Langa find the right words to explain, and Langa wanted to tell him. He wanted to tell him everything. 

But before he could say anything, someone appeared on Reki’s other side, and Langa’s heart was in his throat again.

“Reki,” said Yua, in her soft, pretty voice, and Langa’s heart pounded  _ no, no, no,  _ “Can I talk to you for a second? I mean, ah. Just us?” 

_ No, no, no, I—  _

“Sure!” said Reki, and Langa tried to swallow, but he couldn’t, and then they all stepped off the curb to cross the street and Langa stumbled. For a moment he was falling and then Reki’s hand squeezed his arm, steadying him. Langa tried to catch his breath, but there was no air. Somehow he was upright. Reki was saying something, “Be right back,” and Langa opened his mouth like a fish but nothing came out. _No no no,_ he thought desperately, as Reki’s hand fell away from his arm, moving away through the sea of people, _no no no,_ Langa couldn’t see him anymore, and his feet stopped moving, right in the middle of the crosswalk. Someone bumped into him from behind, a girl’s voice, “Langa-kun,” 

_ no no no  _

but all Langa could hear was the buzzing of cars and laughter around him. He could feel himself walking again, automatically, surrounded by people he should know but didn’t, faces he should recognize but didn’t, words he should understand but didn’t. Reki was gone. What if Langa had forgotten his face already? 

He stumbled going back up the curb. His throat was so tight that his eyes were beginning to burn. Somewhere in this scene of indistinguishable faces, that girl ( _what was her name?_ ) that girl was telling Reki the things Langa had never had a chance to say: “I like you, Reki” (Langa liked him more than anybody, the curve of his smile, the joy of his laughter, the way his voice got deep and affectionate when he said “man,” the way he kicked the vending machine in frustration when it ate his money) that girl was saying “I like you, Reki, will you go out with me?” and Reki would smile so big, so happy,

he would be  _ so happy,  _

and Langa choked back a sob because of course he couldn’t make Reki happy. He could only kiss him a little for practice, he was an idiot, Reki was probably already bored of him and moving onto the next person and Langa had never had a chance to tell him how much he liked him. 

The next street swelled in front of him. A big truck was rumbling through the crosswalk, painted in bright colors and Langa’s face rose trying to take all the colors in, eyeballs stinging. He didn’t see Reki in the crowd. What if Reki had fallen behind? What if he was in an alleyway right now with that girl and she had her hands on his face, sliding her fingers into his hair ( _ Langa hadn’t gotten to touch his hair to see if the conditioner made it soft _ ) and what if she was stretching up on her tiptoes  _ (Langa was too tall he wouldn’t stop growing)  _ and what if she was pressing her soft mouth to Reki’s and what if Reki was making that deep humming noise against her and, and, and 

“Langa-kun—” 

One of the girls was touching him, holding him back. Langa blinked and blinked, trying to focus his blurry eyes, and he saw that he had stepped over the curb, into the street. The girl pulled him up onto the sidewalk again. 

“—so dangerous,” she was saying, and someone else said, 

“He doesn’t feel danger, haven’t you seen him skate?” 

and Langa stood there with his hands hanging limply by his sides and remembered the feeling of snowboarding down a too-steep hill, wondering if he would die and not caring, because his father was dead, and because he couldn’t feel his body then, everything was numb, and now again all his limbs were going numb. 

“Langa,” someone said, 

and Langa turned around so quickly he stumbled over the curb again, and with a flash of red in his vision Reki was grabbing his arm, pulling him upright again. 

“Bro, watch yourself!” Reki said. His face was flushed, and his hand was tight on Langa’s wrist, warm over his pulse point, and Reki was shaking his head. When Langa had righted himself, he could feel the tremor in Reki’s arm, and he searched Reki’s face, wishing he could puzzle out his expression, but he couldn’t and he felt helpless, pathetic. 

“What happened?” he asked. 

“You almost got ran over by a car, that’s what hap—” 

“No,” said Langa, and he knew he shouldn’t interrupt, but his brain wouldn’t listen, it wouldn’t obey him. “What happened with that—with that girl? Did she confess to you?” 

Reki looked at him. Langa suddenly got the feeling that it had been the wrong thing to say, but he couldn’t take it back and Reki looked away, off to the side. “No,” Reki said, and then he gave a horrible sort of laugh, the kind he didn’t really believe in. “She was asking me about you. She wanted to know if we were—if we were dating.” 

Langa’s brain short-circuited, and he clutched at Reki’s arm, trying to focus himself again. “Wh-what?” 

“I know,” said Reki, even though Langa didn’t know what he meant, and he did the laugh thing again, rubbing his arm. “Apparently I’m too—I touch you too much? I don’t know. I’m sorry, man. I probably ruined your chances with her. I tried to tell her you were straight, and also single, but even then I don’t think she really bought it.” 

Langa stared at him. Around them, the people started crossing the street again, and Reki nudged him forward, and this time Langa could feel his feet again, sort of, with Reki holding onto him. “She said that?” he asked, and his voice felt clumsy and far away, but Reki was here now, and the feeling was slowly bleeding back into Langa’s body, even though his throat was still tight. 

“Well, she said—she said I kept touching you at dinner and so she thought we were—you know.” Reki gave another laugh, and Langa’s stomach twisted weakly. Reki was uncomfortable. He was uncomfortable that someone had thought he and Langa were together, and it was Langa’s fault, somehow, because of course people could probably see how much he adored Reki. Of course they could. People had always been able to read each other’s emotions in a way Langa couldn’t. “I’m sorry, dude,” Reki was saying again. “Do you want me to stop touching you so much? I should probably stop.” 

“No,” said Langa before he could think, because Reki’s grip had loosened on his hand, and if Reki let go, then Langa was going to lose him in the crowd again, Langa was going to lose himself. “No, I—it’s okay.”

“Okay,” said Reki, and he tightened his grip again, guiding Langa around a corner and into the town square. The twist in Langa’s stomach tightened too. Maybe Reki would stop wanting to be his friend now that people thought they were together. Maybe he, too, had noticed the admiration in Langa’s eyes when he watched Reki skate. Maybe he would drift away and find other guys who wouldn’t look at him that way, and Langa would be alone again, just like in Canada, where the same thing had happened, and Langa’s throat swelled up all over again. 

Reki was doing this thing with his thumb—sort of smoothing it over Langa’s elbow. Langa tried to focus on that, nothing else, as their classmates clumped up near the ice cream truck. The girls had broken up into groups, and as Reki stroked his arm, calming him down, it dawned on Langa that maybe Reki was upset—maybe he should ask Reki if he was upset. 

“Are you,” he stumbled over the words. Nothing would come out right, and in English he said, to himself, “ _ Are you okay, do you want to talk to the others?”  _ He repeated it to himself until he could remember the Japanese words, and he could see Reki watching him, confused, until Langa explained himself. 

“Oh,” said Reki. He glanced around. Near them, a group of girls was giggling together, and one of them was the short-haired girl who had invited them to the mixer, and Langa’s stomach twisted. “Sure, we can talk to them. I, uh. I think you probably still have a chance with everybody but Yua, you don’t need to worry.” 

Langa didn’t know how to respond, because his mind got tangled up trying to decipher Reki’s weird tone of voice. Reki had gotten it all wrong, Langa didn’t want a chance with any of those girls, he just thought Reki would want to talk to them because that was why they had come, so Reki could find a girlfriend. But he followed Reki over to the circle of girls anyway, his mind foggy. 

The giggling died down when they approached, but the girls didn’t open up the circle so they could fit inside. They just eyed Reki, eyebrows raising, and one of them said, “Did we invite you, Reki? I can’t remember,” and someone stifled a snicker. 

Reki frowned. “You did,” he said.

“Are you sure?” she said. “Because remember that time in middle school when you showed up to my birthday party uninvited,” and Langa didn’t like the way she laughed after she said it. It wasn’t a teasing laugh. It was mean, and Langa’s stomach twisted more sharply, like she had put a knife through him. 

“That was six years ago,” Reki protested. 

“Well,  _ I  _ still remember it,” she said, tossing her hair over her shoulder. One of the other girls turned around. 

“Did you say something to make Yua-chan uncomfortable, Reki? She looked super weird after talking to you.” 

“I didn’t,” Reki started, but another girl said, 

“You talked her ear off at dinner, poor thing. She didn’t even get a chance to talk to any of the guys she came to hang out with. You know what the point of a mixer is, don’t you? It’s so girls can meet all kinds of different guys, not listen to you blather on for five hours.” 

The knife twisted in Langa’s stomach again, a slow heat rising through him, and he registered that his hands were clenched into fists, nails digging painfully into his palms. He opened his mouth to say something, but everything was too loud, and the girls began talking over him, their conversation overlapping, too fast for him to keep up. Reki’s hand tightened on Langa’s arm, and Langa heard one girl say his own name.

“Let Langa-kun meet people, too,” she said, “he’s never going to, with you clinging to him all the time.” 

The conversation spun onward, but Langa’s brain couldn’t move past those words. Reki looked up at him, and their faces were so close that Langa’s brain stuttered, the blur of Reki’s red hair overwhelming him. Reki’s eyes were hard, determined, something tight around his mouth. “I’m gonna go buy us ice cream,” he said, and Langa focused desperately on his voice so he wouldn’t miss anything. Reki’s words were low and careful. “What d’you want?” 

“I, um.” Langa couldn’t think. His hands had eased out of the fists, but he could still hear the horrible things those girls said replaying in his mind, and he couldn’t  _ think _ . “Um, whatever—whatever I got last time we were here.” 

“Okay,” said Reki, squeezing his arm, and then he said, “I’ll be right back, okay? You can have a minute to yourself.” 

And then he was wiggling through the crowd, and Langa was watching him go, a faded  _ no no  _ echoing in his mind. Why was Reki leaving him with these girls, these horrible girls? Did he think Langa wanted to talk to them? Did he think Langa would rather be with them than with him? 

Langa didn’t talk to them. He just stood there, numbly, hovering outside the circle as the girls talked among themselves about teachers and their upcoming summer vacation, waiting for Reki to return. He heard the girl who had invited him to the mixer say, “Okay, the line’s dying down, I’m going to go buy something too.” 

“Oh, Nanami,” said another girl, who was Nanami’s hand, “can you get me a strawberry cone?” 

“Of course,” said Nanami, and she pulled away from the circle. Langa watched her go, all the awful feelings thrumming through his body, and he wished he had never let her convince him to come here. He and Reki would never be able to come to this ice cream truck again without remembering this horrible night, and Langa wanted to sit down on the curb and cry, he was so exhausted. He wanted his bed and maybe his mom (his dad), he wanted to curl up with Reki and sleep for twelve hours and dream of nothing. 

Through the broken crowd, he saw Reki holding two ice cream cups, but Reki wasn’t coming toward him, Reki wasn’t moving at all. He was standing near the edge of the truck, nodding, and then saw the short, bobbed hair next to him. Nanami was talking, and Reki was nodding, and Langa’s throat felt raw from all the panic. 

He couldn’t leave Reki with her. He couldn’t, but his feet didn’t want to move, he didn’t want to get any closer to that girl. 

When he was a few steps behind Reki, he could see Nanami’s red-lipsticked mouth moving. He could hear her voice, naturally pitched too loud. “...thought I would give you some words of wisdom,” she was saying. “These girls, they want a boyfriend, they don’t want a  _ friend,  _ you understand?” 

“But what’s the—” Reki started, but she shushed him. 

“Listen,” she said. “Listen to me. I’ve dated several of the people here, okay? Boys and girls. They don’t want to get to know you. They want to show someone off. They want to tell all their friends they have a tall, handsome boyfriend they can post on Instagram, and they want you to ask them sweet questions about their interests and buy them flowers and keep quiet. They want an accessory, and you always make yourself the center of attention, because no offense, but you never know when it’s better to shut up.” 

Anger stabbed through Langa’s stomach, his vision going red, but he held himself back, trying to calm his shaking hands, because Reki was saying in a tense sort of voice, 

“So I should just—be quieter?” 

“That’s a good place to start,” Nanami said. “And change your hair, okay? That’s not gonna match with anyone’s aesthetic.” She reached out, patting his shoulder, and Langa ground back a shout, because she  _ shouldn’t touch him.  _ Nanami disappeared into the line for the ice cream, and Langa saw Reki’s shoulders slump as he kicked at the gravel, like his strings had been cut. 

Langa was moving forward before he could remember telling his feet to walk. “Reki,” he said, but Reki turned away from him, brushing his hair out of his eyes and glancing up at the bright streetlights above. 

“It’s getting late,” he said, in a voice Langa had never heard before. “We should probably get home, huh? Hey, do you know if anyone’s gonna be at S tonight?”

“I—don’t know,” said Langa, faintly. His hand, which had risen automatically to grab onto Reki, fell back to his side. “Do you...do you want to go?” 

Reki was quiet for a long time. Langa’s eyes dropped to the ice creams in his hands, the condensation dripping onto Reki’s fingers, and he swallowed, because Reki had gotten him three scoops instead of two. He must have known Langa hadn’t eaten enough at dinner, and Langa swallowed again, hard. He felt like the lump in his throat would never go away. 

“Yeah,” said Reki finally. “Well, I mean, we should probably just go home. I’m not sure if we’ll be able to sneak out tonight, anyway, my mom wants me around to watch my sisters.” 

Langa nodded mutely. Reki jolted a little, turning back around, handing Langa his ice cream, and their hands pressed together when Langa took it, and for a moment both of them stood there, staring down at their hands. Langa didn’t want to pull away, and for a long minute Reki didn’t, either, until finally Reki said, 

“You should eat it before it melts,” and his voice cracked on  _ before,  _ and he took his hand away to rub at his mouth. 

“Okay,” said Langa. He struggled to say something else, anything else, but there were so many things in his brain and none of them were words. They were just images—Nanami’s red mouth saying  _ change your hair,  _ a sea of faces that weren’t Reki’s crowding around Langa’s body, the boy he had kissed back in Canada walking away from him. Langa swallowed again, pressing both of his hands to the cold sides of the ice cream cup. “Can I… can I sleep over?” 

“Of course,” said Reki, and his voice was quiet, so quiet, and Langa’s heart thumped painfully.

Reki had never been this quiet before. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (tw for panic attacks: Langa feels a lot of anxiety over being left alone, and it manifests in some dissociation from his surroundings. If you would like to skim over this part of the chapter, please skip from "What if Reki started dating her?" to "Bro, watch yourself." Stay safe lovelies!!) 
> 
> Also - me uploading twice in the same weekend??? It must be a miracle. For real though I was excited about writing this chapter even though it's...significantly less happy than some of the others. But don't worry, the fluff will return! And there is still more kissing to come. 
> 
> Thank you all for your lovely comments on this fic, it absolutely motivates me to write so much faster and I love getting to talk about sk8 with more people! I appreciate y'all so much :)


	5. Chapter 5

Langa needed to hug Reki, badly. 

His hands were itching with the urge, his arms aching, as they climbed off the moped and walked slowly up to Reki’s house. The nighttime was full of sounds, birds cawing somewhere, a neighbor’s car pulling into a driveway, the jingle of Reki’s keys in the doorway, but none of the sounds were _Reki_ and Langa kept swallowing, trying to hold his hands against his sides. He just wanted Reki to talk to him, he thought. He just wanted a hug. 

But Reki was quiet as he toed off his shoes, kicking them carefully into a pile by the doorway, his hair hanging into his face. Langa balled his hands up into fists because they wouldn’t stop itching and his fingers were trembling, and Reki hadn’t held onto his waist while they rode home, he had sat backwards and just held onto the moped instead and Langa _needed_ him. 

“M’gonna go to the bathroom,” Reki mumbled, and Langa nodded, even though his bones were starting to hurt, because he wanted to touch Reki, he wanted Reki to touch him, they had been apart for too long tonight and Langa wanted to hold onto his shoulders, at least, _anything_. But he nodded anyway, and Reki went slowly down the hallway, the door of the bathroom clicking shut behind him. 

Langa just stood there for a moment, in the middle of the hallway, his hands balled up and his chest pressing against his ribs, a little desperate. He couldn’t even see Reki now. He couldn’t watch his face to make sure he was okay, and Reki _wasn’t_ okay, he was in pain, and Langa tried to swallow and then he tried again because Reki was in pain and he was hiding, he wasn’t letting Langa help. 

Langa pressed himself against the wall, staring down the hallway. He could hear the water running in the bathroom, and the fans going in every room in the tiny house, because Reki’s home was never quiet, not even in the dead of night, and that had always been comforting for Langa. His own apartment was quiet all the time. Especially now. Now when Langa came home, the rooms were empty, and no one came to ruffle his hair and say, _How was school, sport?_ Reki’s house, in contrast, was always lively and full of people who wanted to hang onto his backpack and ask so many questions. _Reki_ was always lively, and loud, and he talked a lot and now he wasn’t talking at all. The whole way home Reki hadn’t said a single word. 

Langa’s hands shook, and he rubbed them against his pants, but it didn’t help, his whole body was starting to tremble now. He had been alone in a crowd of so many people. He had been alone, and Reki had been nowhere, and now Langa was alone in Reki’s house and his eyes were starting to blur again. He pressed his hands to his eye sockets, hard, until they hurt, because he had been squinting all night long and trying to hold himself together and now he just needed to sag against Reki’s chest and ball up his hands in Reki’s sweatshirt and cry. 

His legs were shaking so much he thought he wouldn’t make it down the hallway, but he did. He could still hear the water running in the bathroom, and he leaned against the doorframe, staring at the handle, willing it to turn. “Reki?” he whispered, his throat dry and hoarse, but a long minute passed and there was no reply. 

Langa squeezed his eyes shut. The edges of his vision were beginning to blur with darkness and he couldn’t—he couldn’t—he couldn’t let the world fade out like that again, he needed to be able to see Reki, when he opened the door and Langa could finally hug him. Reki _would_ let Langa hug him, he had to. Langa had kept his hands to himself all night long, he hadn’t tried to hold Reki’s hand, he hadn’t tried to get between Reki and the girls and he hadn’t tried to hug Reki to his chest, keeping him away from everybody else, he hadn’t even though he had wanted to. 

He took a shaky, shallow breath, and he could feel the tears starting to build up behind his eyes, even though he tried to swallow them back, he tried so hard to swallow them back. Reki _would_ give him a hug. No matter how horrible Langa felt, Reki had always made him feel better, Reki always bandaged up his scrapes and smoothed his hair off his face and smiled until the sun came out from the clouds again. 

Langa would be so lost and empty without him. 

He felt the first tears slide out of the corners of his eyes and into his hair, cold and wet, and he pressed his sleeve to his mouth. Reki was so wonderful, and nobody understood, nobody saw the sparkle in Reki’s eyes when he thought of a new joke, the way he yelled in frustration if he messed up the punchline. Nobody understood the way Reki’s mind worked constantly, even if he was sitting in class and pretended to pay attention, when really he was thinking about new skating tricks to try and countless other things, which he always explained to Langa in great detail after school was over. The tears slipped down Langa’s face, his hands shaking against his face. He wanted to listen to Reki forever. He wanted to hear Reki’s excited voice again, tripping over itself to get all the words out at the exact same time, and Langa cried harder, sobbing silently into the sleeve of his button-down. 

He would never be able to make Reki understand, he didn’t have the words to explain, he was so terrible with words. Even when Reki was beat up and exhausted, he was still so wonderful, and Langa could never tell him enough, how incredible he was, how much Langa wanted to soak in his clumsy, disjointed rambling forever. 

He cried until he felt drained, until his sleeves were soaked and he had to peel off his button-down, his limbs stiff and fumbling, and stand there in his undershirt, breathing unevenly against his knuckles. Finally the water in the bathroom shut off, and he could hear Reki moving around, and he had to press his knuckles hard against his mouth to stop himself from whimpering. He _needed_ Reki, he had never known before just how much he needed him. He needed Reki to be safe and happy and he just wanted them to curl up in his bed and hold each other until all of the terrible feelings went away. 

The doorknob turned and Langa’s heart throbbed so painfully he nearly whimpered again, and when the door opened he could see Reki’s ankles, bare in his too-short pajama pants. The question burned on his tongue, _can I hug you can I please hug you can I please please,_

but when he glanced up the question died in his mouth because Reki’s hair was wet, dripping onto his shoulders.

“I just washed that stuff out,” Reki mumbled. “I guess it looked like shit anyway.”

Langa gaped at him, his mouth parted, his throat dry and no, no, no. _No_ , he wanted to blurt, _no, please, you look so good, you look like a warm fire on a cold day, you look like all the colors burned into one, you look like love oh god you always look good._ His throat was so dry, it wouldn’t work, and Reki glanced away, the water dripping down his face. 

“Are you still hungry?” he asked, and there was something thick in his voice, scratchy. He cleared his throat, and Langa’s body burned, because he had so many things he needed to say, crammed into his chest, and he couldn’t say _any of them._ “I mean, I know you’re hungry,” and Reki’s voice was so quiet, “C’mere. I can make you food.” 

_No_ , Langa wanted to say, even though his stomach was empty and aching and it hurt. The water was dripping from Reki’s hair and staining his t-shirt a dark gray color and Langa’s hands were burning, he wanted to hug him, _please god let me hug him._ He tried to speak. “You don’t,” the words wobbled, he couldn’t say them, he couldn’t say any of them, “you don’t have to feed me.” 

“I’m gonna, I’m a good host,” said Reki, and when he glanced up Langa could see the deep brown of his eyes, and his throat closed up and his hands shook again, so much harder, against his thighs. Then Reki looked away again, and his fingers touched Langa’s arm, closing loosely around his wrist, and the touch made Langa’s body flush, hot and trembly and he could barely stop himself from sobbing again as Reki led him down the hallway. 

In the kitchen Reki turned on a small lamp and stuck waffles into the toaster. “My sisters do this,” he said quietly, and when he let go of Langa’s hand, Langa bit down on his tongue, hard, watching Reki fumble around the cabinets. Langa pressed his hands against his thighs, because they were itching again, and he wanted to latch onto Reki’s sweatshirt, he wanted Reki to hold him. Reki mumbled a quiet curse to himself as one of his plastic cups toppled down onto the counter, bouncing silently against a dishtowel. 

“Can I,” Langa said, but then the words sputtered out, too quiet to hear, and Reki glanced at him across the kitchen. 

“What?” 

Langa swallowed. He didn’t know how to say what he wanted, because what he wanted was to wrap his arms around Reki and ball up his shaky hands in his sweatshirt and bury his face in his hood. “Can I, um. Can I stand with you?” 

Reki’s eyebrows furrowed together, that tiny wrinkle in his forehead that Langa had always wanted to touch, and Langa swallowed again, pressing his hands hard against his legs. His body was starting to feel brittle and shaky with the effort of holding back, like he would fall apart if Reki didn’t touch him soon. “Of course,” said Reki, sounding confused and tired, very tired. “C’mere, they’ll cook fast.” 

They came together at the toaster, their arms brushing, and Langa wanted to sob with the relief of Reki’s body warmth, even though it was a small touch, barely the ghost of one. He pressed his hands against the edge of the counter so he wouldn’t try to grab Reki. “You’re so nice,” he managed, and Reki turned his face to look at him. 

In the darkness Langa could see the tightness of Reki’s face, he could hear the way Reki was trying so hard to keep his voice steady when he said, “What?” 

Langa fumbled with the words. None of the words were right—none of them captured just how wonderful Reki was, how caring, how gentle. “I...you’re so nice,” he said again. “I, um. I didn’t even remember I was hungry until you said...and you offered to make me food, even though we just ate.” 

Reki was quiet for a moment, staring up at Langa’s face, and when Langa swallowed, he could see the way Reki’s eyes flickered down to his throat. Reki swallowed, too. “It’s nothing,” he said. “It’s just, it’s just being polite. I know you’re hungry, so you should eat.” 

Langa nodded, swallowing again, trying to hang onto the way Reki’s arm pressed briefly against his own. Reki was so kind, acting as if anyone could see all the tiny ways Langa needed taking care of, as if anyone would take care of Langa just as good as Reki did. _I need a hug,_ Langa wanted to blurt. _Please, please, I just want to hug you, I just need you to be okay._

The toaster popped up, and Reki put the waffles onto the plate, just one plate, for Langa, and Langa could feel his throat tighten again, aching with all the unshed tears. He could see the way Reki’s hands trembled as he found a fork in the kitchen drawers. Reki was in pain and he was still trying to be good to Langa, as if Langa’s empty stomach was more important than his broken fucking heart, and Langa just wanted to lean against his chest and cry and cry until he was exhausted. 

He followed Reki slowly back into the bedroom, where the blankets were rumpled, Reki’s clothes scattered everywhere, and they sat on the bed, the plate in Langa’s lap. Langa ate quickly, his stomach burning, and when he finished and set the plate aside with shaky hands he thought that now was the time. Reki was sitting right in front of him, their legs bumping together on the bed, and Langa could just ask, he could just say, _May I please have a hug_ and Reki would probably say yes, so Langa opened his mouth, and

“Did you,” Reki said, and the words died in Langa’s throat, his heart beating double time against his ribs. He pressed his hands under his thighs to stop them from trembling so much, and Reki swallowed, looking at the bed between them. “Did you meet anybody you liked?” 

“Wh-what?” 

“Tonight,” said Reki, the words wobbling. “Did you meet anyone?”

Langa stared at him, a cold sort of feeling trickling into his chest. Did Reki think Langa had been thinking about—about girls tonight? God, _all_ he could think about was Reki, how much he needed him, how much he wanted to curl their bodies together and cry, how much he wanted to hold Reki’s face between his palms and whisper, haltingly, how _good_ he thought Reki was. 

“I...no.” _Of course not._ “Did you?” 

Reki blinked, once and then again, quickly, his hand coming up to rub at his mouth before he said, “No,” and then he laughed a little, against his hand, a horrible little choked-up sound. “I wouldn’t’ve been...I wouldn’t’ve been good enough, anyway, even if I did.” 

Langa pressed his mouth closed, trying to swallow, trying not to cry. His chest was so heavy, and it wasn’t _fair,_ it wasn’t fair that Reki felt so small and so awful when Langa was so full of things he loved about Reki, things he wanted so badly for Reki to know but couldn’t figure out how to tell him. “That’s not true,” he choked out, and he could feel his eyes stinging again, raw already from how much he’d cried tonight, and Reki shoved his knuckle into his mouth, biting down, and in the moonlight Langa saw the first tear slide down his cheek. 

Langa’s heartbeat was pounding in his chest, in his ears, in his palms and for a moment Reki began to blur in his vision, and the tears welled up in his eyes again. 

“No,” he blurted, “no, no,” and he needed to be able to see Reki, he rubbed at his eyes until he could feel the skin burning, raw and sensitive, and then he grabbed onto Reki’s shoulders, the tears slipping down his own face, too fast to blink away. “You’re not...you are...you _are_ good enough, you’re…” 

“Langa,” Reki choked out, and Langa blinked furiously, trying to bring Reki’s face back into focus, his wet hair and his wet face and his eyes _god his eyes,_ swimming with tears, and before Langa knew what he was doing, he was holding Reki’s face in his hands, his fingers rubbing at the tears, sliding on Reki’s skin. 

“No,” Langa whispered, hoarse, because he didn’t know what else to say, he didn’t have enough words. “You’re perfect, you’re…”

“Sorry,” Reki said, and the word cracked, and he screwed up his eyes, and Langa clung to his face, his head thundering in his chest, and he wanted to hug Reki so badly so badly _so fucking badly_ it was like he was going to die if he couldn’t squeeze his arms around him. “Sorry, it’s just, it’s a lot, y’know, I just...I just wanted to be...to be good and…”

“You are good,” and Langa could feel himself crying now, too, “you _are_.” 

Reki sobbed, the smallest most painful sound, and Langa could feel his heart breaking into so many tiny fucking pieces, and then Reki lunged forward, his arms going around Langa’s body and his face burying in Langa’s shoulder and Langa nearly toppled over, the feeling of Reki’s skin burning all over him, a hot flush over his whole body like relief. 

He buried his own face in Reki’s hoodie, his eyes wet, his hands shaking. He could feel Reki’s raspy, uneven sobbing against him, their chests pressed together, their legs jumbled up in the blankets as they held each other so tightly that Langa could barely breathe. Reki was still crying, and Langa’s hands found Reki’s wet hair, running through the tangles, over and over and over until he could feel Reki sniffling against his collar. 

He pulled away, just slightly, so he could see Reki’s face, flushed and raw in the moonlight, the tears still sliding out of his eyes. His eyelashes were wet, Langa realized, and the wrinkle was forming between his eyebrows again, like he was struggling to hold himself together, and before Langa could stop himself, he leaned forward and pressed his mouth to that wrinkle. Reki’s breathing stuttered, the tears pouring out, and Langa pulled away and held his face, tightly, in both hands. 

“Sorry,” he whispered, and he could hear how strained his voice was. “Sorry, I shouldn’t’ve…”

“No,” Reki managed. “S’okay.” 

Langa’s heart clenched. Carefully he kissed the spot again, and Reki let out a shaky breath, the water from his wet hair dripping cold onto Langa’s nose before he pulled away. Reki’s eyes were still brimming with tears, but he looked up at Langa, and Langa swallowed, because the overwhelming _feelings_ were rising up in his throat again. 

“Sorry,” he whispered again, because his hands felt clumsy on Reki’s face, and Reki blinked, more tears slipping out. He shook his head, rubbing at his eyes, and said, voice cracking, 

“S’good,” 

and his hands found Langa’s upper arms and _squeezed._

Langa’s heart burned in his chest. He thumbed at the tears on Reki’s cheeks, feeling the shuddery breath go through Reki’s body, and then he leaned in again, pressing his mouth to Reki’s face, right under his eye. Reki’s breath hitched on a small sob, so Langa did it again, kissed his cheek, the skin there rough and chapped from all the crying, the tears wet and cold against his mouth. 

Reki’s hands squeezed his arms again, so Langa moved to his other cheek, kissing the skin there, trying to kiss away all of Reki’s tears. He kissed Reki’s nose softly and the corner of his mouth, and he saw the way Reki’s lips opened, no sound coming out, his mouth full and swollen in the darkness, and Langa’s chest ached, because he wanted to kiss Reki there, too, on the mouth, he wanted to kiss him until everything felt better. But he knew that wouldn’t help, so he kissed Reki’s cheeks instead, again and again, cupping Reki’s face in his hands until finally his breathing began to slow, evening out, and his hands relaxed on Langa’s arms.

Langa pulled away, but Reki dragged him back, resting their foreheads together. Langa could feel the flush on his own skin, the warmth of Reki’s breathing, and they were so close that he could feel every rise and fall of Reki’s chest. “Sorry,” Langa whispered again, into the space between them, and Reki shook his head. 

“S’okay,” he whispered. “It felt...it felt good.” He opened his eyes, and for a moment they just looked at each other, and Langa couldn’t breathe because Reki’s eyes were so big and bright and then Reki glanced down at his mouth. 

Langa swallowed. Reki took his hand away from Langa’s arm, touching it to his jaw, his thumb brushing the bottom of Langa’s lips. Langa tried to swallow again, but now he was burning from the touch, the pad of Reki’s finger rough and callused against his mouth. Reki let his hand fall, but then he whispered,

“Can I...just once? I…” 

Langa nodded, even though he wasn’t sure what Reki was asking, he could only hope, and Reki let his eyes sink closed again before leaning in. 

Their mouths pressed flush together, and Langa squeezed his eyes closed, too. Reki’s mouth was cold and wet, but his hands had fallen into Langa’s lap, resting on his thighs, and their legs were tangled together, pressing close in so many places. Reki breathed in without pulling away, and Langa kept his eyes tightly shut, because he was afraid that if he opened them, all his emotions would pour out, all of the feelings for Reki that he had bottled up, all the love he wanted so desperately to give him. 

  
The kiss lasted a long time. When Reki finally pulled away, Langa could still feel the touch lingering on his mouth. 

“One more time?” Reki whispered, and Langa nodded, mouth aching, and Reki kissed him again, more quickly, and then whispered, almost to himself, “One more,” and Langa felt the press of his lips again, and again, and he could feel his heart crushing against his ribcage, desperate to be freed. 

Finally they fell apart. Reki’s hands still lay upturned in his lap, and Langa made fists in the hem of Reki’s sweatshirt. “Are you—” Langa’s voice cracked. “Are you okay?” 

Reki nodded. His eyes were red, and he rubbed at his mouth, his teeth scraping against his knuckles. “M’gonna be,” he said, and Langa searched his face for signs of more tears, but Reki seemed to all cried out, his body sagging. “Wanna sleep? I’m so tired, I…” 

“Yeah,” Langa managed. He could still feel the press of Reki’s mouth to his lips, and he imagined the emotions bleeding from Reki’s body into his own, even though he knew Reki didn’t have those kinds of feelings for him, it was only Langa’s weak stupid heart making up things. He wanted to kiss Reki again, on the forehead maybe, or on his damp hair, his beautiful hair, but he made himself hold back. He needed to put Reki to bed, because maybe nobody ever did that, Reki was so good at taking care of everyone else but maybe tonight he needed somebody to take care of him instead. 

Clumsily Reki shoved the blankets down the bed so they could slide under them, their feet bumping together, and when he had dragged the quilt up to their chests, Langa whispered, “Can I—can we hug?” 

“Uh-huh,” mumbled Reki, and they found each other’s bodies under the blankets, pressing their knees together, Langa’s arms safely around Reki’s torso. He squeezed, feeling the softness of Reki’s hoodie under his arms, and when he breathed out, it was like a sigh, his body relaxing against the mattress. _Finally,_ he thought, _finally._

“Thanks,” Reki whispered into the dark, into the quiet. “For...for you know.” 

Langa didn’t know what he meant, but he nodded against the pillows, smoothing his hands up and down Reki’s back, the wonderful curve of his spine. Reki cuddled against him, their foreheads nearly touching on the pillows, and Langa closed his eyes, listening to Reki’s breathing until it had evened out all the way, into a deep sleep. Then, finally, Langa allowed himself to kiss him one more time, on the knuckles, right where Reki had bitten them. 

* * *

Langa awoke to the banging of pans, the loud voices of Reki’s sisters, calling over each other, “Mommy! Mommy!” 

He lifted his head, groggily, from the pillows. Outside the open window, birds were singing, and the noise of the Sunday morning traffic floated up from the street, and he could hear Reki’s sister squabbling over who got to crack the eggs in the pan. He squinted blearily at the clock. It was nearly ten-thirty, at least an hour later than they usually slept. 

He glanced down. Reki had his arms bundled around Langa’s body, his face smushed into Langa’s chest, and quietly Langa settled back down on the pillows next to him, gazing at Reki’s crooked hairline, the cowlicks sticking up at all angles. Carefully, so he wouldn’t wake him, he settled his hand into Reki’s hair, petting the crumpled pieces that had dried funny in the night, smoothing them away from his face. Reki looked adorable in his sleep, his eyelashes sticking to the tops of his cheeks, his open mouth pressed to Langa’s sternum, and Langa’s body filled with the familiar ache of love for him, an ache he was beginning to think would never go away. 

The memories from last night came filtering back through the bright sounds of the morning, and Langa petted Reki’s hair more incessantly, trying not to think about the horrible things those girls had said to him, the terrible way they made him feel. Reki mumbled in his sleep, snuggling against Langa’s body, and he felt Reki’s socked toes brush against his ankle. Langa buried his mouth in the pillows so he wouldn’t make a sound. 

Reki had cried in his arms last night. Langa had kissed the tears off his face. He could feel a flush crawling up his neck at the memory, shifting under the blankets, a bit ashamed of himself. Why had he thought that would be appropriate? Reki had been a mess, and Langa had taken advantage of him, probably, just like he had taken advantage of him with this whole practice kissing thing. Reki wouldn’t want to kiss him if he knew the way it made hot thrills go up and down Langa’s body, if he knew the way it made Langa’s stomach squirm. Reki would probably wipe his mouth off if he knew that, he would probably feel a little uncomfortable. Reki wanted a girlfriend, and last night he had been upset because no girls wanted him back, and no matter how much Langa wanted him, it wouldn’t be enough, it wouldn’t, so— 

“Reki?” 

There was a rap on the door, and Langa jolted, his hand digging into Reki’s tangled hair, and Reki made a noise in his throat, burrowing deeper into Langa’s chest. Langa’s heart was beating a little too quickly, even though it was just Reki’s mom, and he wasn’t doing anything _wrong,_ they were just cuddling, he was just— 

“Reki, wake up!” It was one of the girls now, jiggling the door handle. “Come see the smiley face I made!” 

Langa tried to calm his beating heart. He ducked his head, trying to find Reki’s jaw in the warm press of their bodies, trying to hook his fingers under Reki’s chin. “Reki,” he whispered in his ear. “Wake up.” 

Reki groaned, shifting against him, and Langa suppressed a shiver as Reki’s hand pressed to his hip, his thin undershirt riding up. Reki had never touched his bare skin like that, they were always wearing clothes, and Langa took a moment to thank every god in the universe because just the brush of Reki’s fingers on his waist was enough to make his brain go fuzzy. 

“Reki.” His mom rapped on the door again, but Reki didn’t move, so Langa cleared his throat, trying to move Reki’s hand off him so he could think. 

“I, um.” His voice came out too high-pitched, scratchy from sleep, and Langa cleared his throat again quickly. “I’m here, Kyan-san. Reki is asleep.” 

“Langa-kun!” said the girl’s voice. “Mommy, can Langa-kun eat breakfast with us?” 

“Of course,” said Reki’s mom, and Langa felt a little embarrassed, trying to squirm away from Reki’s grasp even though a part of him wanted to sink into the pillows and blankets and dream the whole day away. “Langa, sweetie, see if you can get him out of bed, alright? I can’t promise you it’ll be easy.” 

“Okay,” said Langa, still embarrassed, and he bent over Reki’s ear again. “Reki!” 

Reki made a garbled noise, rolling over, his hand catching in Langa’s t-shirt and pulling it with him. Langa’s neck flushed hotter at all the skin left exposed, and he quickly wrenched the t-shirt away again, pulling it down over his stomach. 

“D’wanna’g’up,” Reki mumbled. 

“Your sisters made breakfast,” Langa whispered. “They want you to eat with them.” 

Reki squinted his eyes open, and Langa’s heart thumped a little, traitorously. Just last night those eyes had been glassy with tears and now Langa’s heart was getting all poundy over them again, because apparently he had no sense of what was appropriate, and he could feel the flush rising up to his face. Reki fumbled with the blankets, his hand coming up and touching the side of Langa’s face and Langa pressed his mouth closed, hard, because he knew his skin was probably burning up against Reki’s palm. 

Then Reki’s eyebrows creased together, and he let his hand fall again. Langa swallowed, and Reki closed his eyes, rubbing at them, and mumbled, “M’sorry ‘bout last night.” 

“No,” said Langa, automatically, “no, don’t be—”

“I fucked up,” Reki mumbled, sort of to himself, kicking at the blankets tangled around their feet. He opened his eyes again and looked at Langa, and Langa’s heart beat harder against his chest, his ribs painfully constricting, trying not to remember the way Reki had kissed him last night through the tears, like all he wanted to feel in that moment was Langa. 

“No you didn’t,” Langa said. “You were—you were fine, it was just, it was those girls, not you.” 

Reki’s eyes slid to the ceiling, his hair falling off his forehead when he tilted his face back against the pillows. “I talked too much,” he said, and even though his voice was still croaky from sleep, Langa could hear the deep sadness weighing in his tone, like Reki was disappointed in himself. 

“No,” Langa said, stumbling over the words. “No, I like—I mean—I mean it’s nice when you talk. I think, um. You’re good at it. You’re good at talking.” 

Reki glanced at him, and the corners of his mouth twitched up, just a little. “Thanks, man,” he said, even though Langa could tell that Reki wasn’t taking him seriously.

“I mean it,” he insisted. 

“Sure you do,” said Reki. “But only ‘cause you’re interested in the same stuff as me, other people don’t care about that.” 

Langa’s words stuck in his throat. Maybe that was true, but his heart still felt weird, and it was hard to work out a response. “Well,” he said, and then hesitated. “The, um. The right person will...will care about it, too, probably.” 

“Probably?” 

Langa’s face was hot. “I—”

“I’m just teasing,” said Reki, but even when he smiled, Langa knew he was still hurting. That kind of hurt didn’t go away overnight. Even Langa still felt drained, his limbs a bit achy, and nobody had said anything awful to _him._ The only problem in Langa’s life was his stupid, heartsick self. 

Reki sat up, but he didn’t throw the blankets off, he just crossed his legs so they bumped against Langa’s chest, playing with the corner of the quilt. He was so pretty in the morning light, and no matter how hard Langa tried to look away, to watch Reki’s hands instead, he couldn’t. Nobody else understood how pretty Reki was, because no one else got to see the mess of his hair first thing in the morning, the flush of sleep on his apple cheeks, the freckles dusted below his collarbone when his hoodie slid down at this angle, gaping around his neck. Reki was so pretty, and even when Langa swallowed, he couldn’t push the thoughts down, they stayed lingering in his mouth, as if he could just open his mouth and _say_ them. 

“I was thinking,” Reki began, and his fingers released the quilt and latched onto the hem of Langa’s t-shirt instead, and Langa’s breath stuck in his throat again. He kept his eyes on Reki’s face, but now all his senses were focused on the place where Reki’s knuckles brushed against his stomach as he twisted the t-shirt around. “Last night, I was thinking. It’s just a thought. I mean, you can say no, it’s not...it wasn’t part of our deal, I was just thinking…” 

“What?” 

Reki made a face. “Okay,” he said. “Tell me if it’s stupid. It’s probably stupid. I was just thinking that, like, last night was kind of like a date, right? I mean, not really, but kind of. And I fucked up.” 

“No,” said Langa, “you didn’t, you just—”

“I messed up,” Reki said, putting his hand over Langa’s mouth, and Langa could only make a _mmph_ sound against his palm, which smelled like sweat and like sleep, and Langa could feel his face beginning to burn. God. He could feel Reki’s skin against his mouth, and Reki’s other hand resting on his stomach, and he just _knew_ Reki could see the heat rising on his cheeks. 

His own hands twitched on the mattress, but he didn’t move to push Reki off (because god Reki was _touching_ him, he was touching Langa’s body and _god)_ and Reki said, 

“I’ve never been on a date, okay? I didn’t want to tell you ‘cause it’s embarrassing but I’ve never even been to a group date or a mixer or anything. I only ever go to dinner with my mom.”

“We go to dinner together,” Langa said, against his palm, and Reki took his hand away, and Langa made a face to cover up the way his stomach fluttered at the way Reki flicked his forehead. 

“I know,” Reki said. “And that’s, like—that’s always okay. It’s easy, y’know, with you? I always feel good after we hang out.” 

_Jesus._

“And,” Reki continued, oblivious to the blush Langa could feel darkening on his own face, “I was thinking, y’know, if it was with Langa, I would totally nail a date. And I know you’d be good at that stuff too. All the girls loved you last night, they all wanted to sit next to you, and you would be able to tell me if I was talking too much or whatever, or if I wore the wrong clothes, or—uh, I don’t know. I don’t really know what you’re supposed to do on a date.”

Langa stared up at him. There was a faint blush across Reki’s face, and he wouldn’t look Langa in the eye, his gaze was trained on his fingers, where he was pulling Langa’s t-shirt away from his stomach, and Langa could feel the inch of skin exposed and his neck burned. 

“I—what are you trying to say?”

“I don’t know,” said Reki, almost defensive, and he tugged hard on Langa’s shirt and then released it, dropping his hands back into his lap. “Okay, I do know. I was thinking that—that we should go on a date. Like, just for practice! It’ll be good practice, and we can learn what to do and the right stuff to say and everything and it’ll be good, like, it’ll be good ‘cause it’s us and we get each other.”

For a moment Langa forgot to think. All he could see was Reki and his red hair lit up with the warm sunshine and the wrinkle between his eyebrows, focused on his hands in his lap and god. _It’ll be good._ It would be good, of course it would be good, Langa had always wanted to go on a date with Reki, he had a whole folder on his phone of ideas for places they could go and he swallowed, hard. 

Reki didn’t want it like _that._ He didn’t want to hold hands all day and stare into each others eyes, all gooey and awed, he just wanted...for practice. 

“Um,” Langa said, and Reki quickly said, 

“We don’t have to! Sorry, I knew—fuck. I knew you would think it was awkward. It’s probably ‘cause you’re Canadian, I should have thought of—”

“No,” said Langa hastily. He knew Reki always did this when he got panicked, blaming things on Canada even when the excuse made no sense. “No, it’s okay. We can—we can go on a date.” 

His mouth sort of hurt, saying those words. He had imagined so many different ways of saying them, but never like this. 

“Yeah?” Reki looked up at him, like he was checking to make sure Langa was serious, then he grinned, and Langa’s mouth ached even more. He liked that smile so much, and he just wanted Reki to keep on looking that way forever, instead of the awful way he had looked last night. 

“Yeah,” he said, and he tried to smile back, even though his face felt stiff and clumsy.

“Cool!” said Reki, and he leaned closer, for a moment, and Langa’s mouth went dry like Reki was going to kiss him, and _oh god Reki was going to kiss him,_ and he was already closing his eyes when Reki yanked the pillow from beneath his head. “Got you,” said Reki, grinning, his eyes crinkled up and laughing, and the back of Langa’s head ached as he gazed up at him, his face still so close, his eyes sparkling. He was happy, Langa thought, and that was enough, it would have to be enough. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey lovelies!!! I'm not sure why but this chapter was actually really difficult to write, and I tend to get really frustrated with myself when I feel like my writing isn't up to its usual standard, so I hope this chapter is an okay transition into the next ~plot point~ haha. (Also, I may or may not be making up the plot as I go along so... if you have ideas for their date please do not hesitate to share.)
> 
> Also! I got back onto [tumblr](https://buzzcutseasonart.tumblr.com/) and I desperately need friends there! I am working on art for this fic that I hope to post soon :) And as always, thank you all for the overwhelmingly kind comments. They really brighten my day and help me whenever I'm feeling down about my writing; y'all are the best!


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